#i want to make it clear that i’m aware that jay’s robin run was happening as the trend has already started | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toosicktoocare · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Batfam prompt coming your way if you want it! Entirely up to you! How about Dick goes out with a cold/flu/fever, because he cares more about the people he's saving than himself, and Jason and Tim have to catch him, beat the bad guys, and bring Dick home to rest and get alllll sorts of brotherly love?

It’s the drool that wakes Tim, the uncomfortable dampness pooling at the corner of his mouth. He comes to slowly, consciousness bringing with it an evident twinge across his lower back. A groan grows deep in his throat, wakefulness reminding him that he’s been hunched over a computer in the Cave for hours, leaving him feeling far older than he actually is. He contemplates nodding back off, fleeing from the lingering need for caffeine, but then there’s a scoff too close to his face, and he cracks an eye open to see Damian frowning at him.

“You’re repulsive, Drake.”

Tim sits up with a yawn and narrows his eyes into a dull glare, too tired to hold much heat across his eyes. He throws his arms over his head, lacing his fingers and arching his back into a much-needed stretch. “At least I’m not a demon spawn.”

Damian scoffs and pulls off his domino, a small yawn slipping past his lips.

“Did you just get back?”

“Father and I returned twenty-three minutes ago.”

Tim slumps back against the chair, working around the small, admitting thought that he actually needs to sleep in a real bed for more than an hour if he wants to continue operating as a human. He rubs at his bleary eyes. “How was it? Quiet?”

“Our territory was. We bumped into Grayson about an hour ago. He was tipped off about a potential metahuman ring.”

Tim hums, eyes slipping shut, but then his sleep-riddled mind clears, and he jerks forward, eyes flying open. “Wait, what? Dick’s out?” He scans the room, noticing a distinct lack of Nightwing material.

“Of course he’s out.” Damian’s voice is annoyingly matter of fact, and Tim hops to his feet and crosses his arm, frown sharp.

“Damian, he’s sick.”

“Grayson is more than capable of working through illness, Drake. He’s been trained to withstand—”

“—anything. Yeah, I know,” Tim finishes, a worried bite to his tone. Bruce trained all of his bats to withstand illness, to work through ailments, to find an inner balance between exertion and fatigue. Still, he had checked Dick’s fever earlier, and it was worryingly high, resting at 102.3 degrees. He also knew that Dick was itching to explore the anonymous tip about the metahuman ring, and Tim had meant to keep Dick from leaving. Falling asleep over a large monitor was not a part of his nightly plans.

He leans over and taps into the comms on the computer, only faintly aware of Damian slipping up behind him. “Red Robin to Nightwing.” He waits, scanning the connection, waiting for a quiver in the flat audio line. “Come in, Nightwing.”

“He’s probably busy, Drake, making himself useful unlike—”

“Shut it,” Tim spits out, whipping a sharp glare over his shoulder before turning back to the computer. “Dick, answer the damn comm.”

There’s a drawn-out rasp of a breath that flicks across the audio line, a few, harsh coughs following. “Language, little wing.”

Tim wants to feel relieved, but Dick sounds exhausted, winded, his voice cracking and an octave lower than usual. “Jesus, Dick! What the hell are you doing?”

Dick sighs over the comm, and Tim taps loudly at the computer until he’s pulling up a visual of Dick sagged against a wall, chest heaving deeply as if he’s just run a marathon.

“I’ve got to look into this, Tim. A second tip came in. There’s movement at the shipping dock— very large boxes that are being transported to the warehouse that’s housing the metahuman ring.”

Tim taps a few more keys, pulling up a vitals scan that shows Dick’s temperature elevated to 102.6 degrees. “Dick, your fever’s rising. You need to—”

“I’ll be quick; I swear. I’ve gotta run.”

The comm goes dead, and Tim can see Dick pulling the earpiece from his ear and slipping it into his utility belt. He watches a moment longer, eyes studying Dick’s surroundings, each street sign, each flickering streetlight, until he swipes off the feed and whips around, moving past Damian to suit up.

“You’re going out?”

“Someone has to drag his stupid ass back here.” Tim exhaustion is teasing at his mind, and he shakes his head as he begins to dress into his uniform.

“I’ll go—”

“—straight to bed,” Tim finishes, arching one brow, daring Damian to argue.

“Drake, you do not have the authority to order me around. Do you honestly think you’re capable of bringing Grayson back alone?”

“No,” Tim admits, fiddling with the comm in his ear before pulling his attention down to his phone. “He’s too bull-headed.”

“Well, what’s your plan then, Drake?”

“I call in someone even more bull-headed.

***

Tim swallows back a flinch when Jason drops down beside him with a loud thump, having travelled by roof apparently.

“Replacement.”

“Hood,” Tim greets, matching Jason’s tone, eyes trained to the warehouse across the street.

“You sent out an SOS.”

“I did.” Tim narrows his eyes, domino moving along the sharp movement. He pulls his gaze upward until he spots a familiar tuft of dark hair peering over the edge of the roof. “You made good time.”

“Because you sent out an SOS,” Jason presses.

“Worried?” Tim asks, arching one brow, and Jason swats him hard on the back of the head.

“In your dreams, Replacement. I was hoping to come in guns a-blazing.” Jason ghosts his hands over the guns in his holsters, fingers itching for a need to shoot.

“You’ll get your chance,” Tim mutters, nodding toward the roof. “First, we have to stop this idiot.”

“This is Dick Brain’s territory,” Jason reminds Tim flatly, eyes slowly following Dick’s careful movements on the roof. “Why are we—” He stops when Tim patches an audio message that reads out Dick’s vitals, his frown deepening along each word. “Okay,” he drags out. “Point taken. What’s the plan?”

“I’m kind of making it up as I go,” Tim admits, standing from his crouch. He pulls out his grapple hook and aims it toward the edge of the roof, close to Dick’s peering face. He pulls the trigger and waits for the weightless tug.

“That’s my type of plan.”

Tim hears Jason laughing behind him as he shoots forward, going airborne, wind whipping tightly around him until he’s barrel rolling onto the roof, with Jason landing on his feet beside him mere seconds later.

Tim’s quick to dodge the sudden swing of a baton at his head, stumbling backward against Jason’s chest, and Jason’s a lot faster, reaching over Tim’s shoulder, fingers snagging Dick’s wrist mid second swing.

“Easy, dumbass. Are you trying to smash your baby bro’s head in?” Jason’s growl is deep in Tim’s ear, and Tim stills, watching carefully as it takes longer than it should for Dick’s face to fall into recognition.

“Jay…?” Dick turns to cough into the crook of his arm, harsh, grating coughs that leave Tim wincing as he pulls for another vital scan, finding Dick’s temperature tipping toward 103 degrees.

“Good to see you too, Dickie Bird.” Jason mutters, and Tim slips toward Dick, pressing a hand to his shoulder, Dick’s muscles shaking under his palm.

“Dick, you need to go back to the manor. At this rate, you’re going to need an IV.” Tim keeps his voice steady, but when Dick jerks away from him, he frowns, making to step forward only not able to when Jason wraps an annoyingly strong arm around his waist.

“Tim, don’t, you can’t…” Dick’s coughing again, and Jason’s dragging Tim backward despite Tim’s thrashing.

“Jason, what the hell?”

“No spleen. Remember?” Jason pokes at Tim’s side, and Tim sighs loudly, slumping against Jason’s grip.

“Dick will listen to you,” Tim tries, twisting around to face Jason, mind plotting through his sporadic plan. “All he wants is to make things better between you both.” He keeps his voice quiet, studying Jason’s covered frown and narrow eyes that are glued to Dick.

“What’s happening in the warehouse?”

“Metahuman trafficking,” Tim answers, and Jason tenses before him, just as Tim expected he would.

Tim could have taken Damian; hell, he could have made Bruce come, but Jason’s the key. Aside from the fact that Dick would drop just about anything if it means he can mend another thread of he and Jason’s frayed relationship, Tim’s also acutely aware of Jason’s violent need to protect Gotham’s youth, hitting too close to home of a damaged childhood.

There’s also, Tim thinks, the small fact that Jason will do anything for Dick, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Tim knows. Dick was, and always will be, who Jason looks up to the most.

“You play dirty,” Jason growls, catching onto Tim’s reasoning. He slips both guns from his holsters, aiming one at Dick’s forehead. “Stay here, dumbass.”

“Wait, Jay—”

“Did I stutter?” Jason bites out, cocking a brow. He waits for Dick to argue, and predictably, Dick doesn’t, instead sagging to the ground as if his legs can no longer support his weight.

“Good,” he mutters, pulling a sharp gaze to Tim. “Ready to go fuck up some motherfuckers?”

“You’re the only person who can make that sentence sound decent.” Tim brings out his bo staff, fingers tightening around it, his lips curling into a smile that almost matches the wild one Jason’s wielding.

“Ha. Guns a-blazing time?”

Nodding, Tim watches as Jason leaps off the roof, and he spares a glance to see Dick curled in on himself, shaking and coughing, before he leaps off, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

***

Tim shoots a grapple hook back up to the roof when GCPD arrives, flying forward and finding Dick asleep, face scrunched up in a clear show of pain that Tim frowns out. He takes the brief moment free of Jason’s strong grip to crouch before Dick, feeling his forehead, hand slipping down to check his pulse. His vital scan report isn’t any worse than before; however, it’s not any better either.

“Geez, Dick,” Tim mumbles under his breath, waiting for the familiar arm around his waist when Jason finally makes it up to the roof. He moves with Jason, not wishing to start a second struggle, not when Dick’s the main priority.

Jason nudges Dick with his boot, and Dick stirs under the touch, coughing sharply, a gravely groan following. “Jay…”

“He’s completely out of it,” Jason mutters, frowning, and Tim swallows back the sudden jerk of panic threatening to climb up his throat. Jason sounds worried, and that alone leaves Tim afraid.

“We should get him back. Can you…?”

“You want me to carry him all the way back to the manor?” Jason spits out, both brows arched into a high curve. “Not happening.”

“I could call Bruce,” Tim starts, forcing away the smile that wants to stretch across his lips at the narrow glare Jason shoots him. “But once I mention that you’re with me, he’ll be here in minutes. You probably won’t make it around the block before he shows up.”

Jason’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Tim holds his stare, unfazed by the sheer annoyance behind Jason’s domino, and finally, Jason breaks with a long, loud groan, turning to hoist Dick onto his back with a grunt.

“Really fucking dirty, Replacement.”

***

Alfred helps get Dick set up with an IV in med-bay, the older man working wordlessly diligently, worried but not vocalizing as much. Tim assists when needed, keeping one eye on Dick but the other on Jason, who’s been eerily silent in the corner of the room, watching, a frown etched sharply across his lips.

“Are you going to tell Bruce?” Tim asks quietly when Alfred finishes.

“Master Bruce already knows,” Alfred informs, briefly flicking his gaze toward Jason. “Out of respect, he’ll keep his distance for a few hours.”

Tim translates in his head: Bruce doesn’t want to scare Jason off. He nods, thankful, and the second Alfred slips out of the room, he shuffles over to the bed and drops onto it, waving off the hiss of his name from Jason as he curls into Dick’s side.

“I take medicine, you know. Daily. To prevent shit.”

“Tell that to literally every single infection that’s knocked you on your ass for days since saying adios to your spleen,” Jason grunts, dragging a chair close to Dick’s bed. “Don’t expect me to play nursemaid when you get sick.”

Tim lifts his head, eyes flat. “That mere thought is going to make me sick.”

“Ditto.”

Tim whips his gaze down to see Dick blinking slowly at him, a small, lazy smile pulling at his lips. He’s faintly aware that Jason’s shot to the edge of his seat and his leaned forward, putting himself closer to the bed.

“Dick? How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to get you sick,” Dick grumbles, and Tim rolls his eyes, tucking himself back down against Dick’s side.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words, kid,” Jason mutters, leaning back and propping his feet onto the edge of Dick’s bed, smiling easily at the tired, yet annoyed look Dick shoots him.

“The metahumans…”

“All safe,” Jason responds, thumbing at the book resting in his lap. “GCPD’s on it.”

Dick’s face relaxes, a deep sigh releasing through parted lips. “Thank you.” He shifts, wrapping his arm around Tim’s back, pulling his brother closer to him. “Are you staying?” he asks, nodding to the book in Jason’s lap.

“Until I’m sure you aren’t taking a page out of my book.”

Dick’s eyes drag up to the ceiling, the muted weight behind Jason’s words pushing against his chest, a reminder that Jason will always process his death and resurrection, not something he can resolve. “Will you read to me?”

“What are you, ten?” Jason teases, arching a single brow, a challenge that Dick takes with an innocently large bat of his lashes.

“You won’t read to your dear, sick brother?”

“So cruel, Jay,” Tim mutters, voice edging toward sleep.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason groans, flipping open The Hobbit. “I hate both of you.” He scans the first sentence, whipping a quick gaze back toward the two. “No interrupting. I haven’t read this yet.” He starts reading, voice lightening as he loses himself in the book, and he makes it seven pages in before he spares a glance to see Dick and Tim sleeping, faces annoyingly soft and innocent. A smile he doesn’t fight pulls at his lips, and he closes the book and nudges his chair closer to the bed until he can hunch over, pillowing his head on the edge of Dick’s bed. He’s certain his back will curse his entire being when he wakes, but for now, he’ll take the twinge of discomfort for this silent, almost vulnerable, moment with the birds…

With his brothers.

177 notes · View notes

chickenmuffinsoup · 4 years

Text

baby talon dick au + more jason

It was strange, Jason decided, being twice the size of his older brother. He was exactly as Jason remembered him—except, of course, the glowing yellow eyes and blue veins that criss-crossed tan skin unnaturally paled. But it was him, impossibly, miraculously. And he was, perhaps more impossibly, still himself. He still flitted around any given space like an acrobat—Alfred had caught him up on the chandelier three times already. He still laughed riotously at the dumbest jokes, still rambled on and on about whatever he was currently passionate about.

It was only little changes now. Now, Dick couldn’t stand to be cold, wrapping himself up in every blanket he could find to prepare for every night. Now, his speech was stilted, and there were still moments he’d forget himself, and call himself ‘Talon.’ And before, Jason really didn’t remember Dick doing what he was told quite so often.

That, and he hadn’t so much as touched a single person other than Jason. He kept painful distance between himself and everyone, stiffening the slightest bit when someone—even Alfred or Bruce—got too close. He remembered them, that much was clear, but his memory was spotty, and they’d been beginning to suspect it might’ve been tampered with. But with Jason, it was different. With Jason, Dick was his usual tactile self. He leaped off the banister into Jason’s arms, he climbed around onto his shoulders, he even held Jason’s hand sometimes. It had weirded Jason out at first, but he’d gotten used to it quickly. Truth be told, Jason himself was a tactile person, it had just been so long since he’d allowed himself such easy contact with another person.

Speak of the devil, Jason felt a light weight slam into his back and wrap tiny, undersized eleven year old arms around his neck.

“Jaybird!” Dick exclaimed, clinging to his back like a spider-monkey.

“Watcha doin’ there, buddy?” Jason asked, pausing from the sandwich he was making. Another strange thing: apparently now he talked to Dick as if he were a child. Dick was a child, but he was still technically Jason’s older brother, and that was still a trip.

Dick hooked his chin over Jason’s shoulder. “I dunno. Do you wanna play a game?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Jason said. He didn’t call Damian “buddy” or “kiddo,” despite Dick and Damian being the same age. Technically. “Just give me a second to eat this.”

“One Mississippi! Your second’s over, let’s go!” Dick tugged on Jason’s neck, trying to get him to start moving.

“Asshole,” Jason laughed. Dick didn’t stop tugging as Jason shoved his sandwich in his mouth. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, mouth full. He carried Dick into the living room, where Dick jumped off of his back and went running to the cabinet under the tv that they kept all their boardgames in. In finding what he wanted, Dick pulled every single other game out of the cabinet as he went, tossing them beside him carelessly.

“Tt. I hope you’re planning on putting that back.” Jason almost (almost) jumped. He hadn’t noticed Damian, buried in an armchair with a sketchbook in his hand.

Dick didn’t even look up, and Jason suspected he’d clocked Damian immediately. “Do you want to play, Dami?” he asked, now with a deck of ratty old Batman cards in hand.

Damian glanced imperiously down at where Dick was kneeling on the floor. “Play what?”

“Go Fish!”

“Go…what?”

Dick was scandalized. “You don’t know what Go Fish is?” At Damian’s continued confusion, he turned to Jason. “He doesn’t know what Go Fish is?”

“Don’t look at me,” Jason said, shoving aside some games to make room for him to sit, perfectly aware Dick would not be putting them away anytime soon. “He came like that.”

Dick pursed his lips and looked at Damian. Since Dick had come home (after nearly killing Damian, Jason should probably add), Jason honestly couldn’t tell if he and Damian were best friends, or if they hated each other.

Damian glared at Jason. “Whatever the game is, I’m sure I can beat you, Todd.”

“It’s a luck game, Damian.”

“No it’s not!” Dick exclaimed. “It’s skill!”

“Sure it is, buddy,” Jason said. He and Dick, back when they were both kids, would play an inordinate amount of card games. They definitely played Go Fish the most (funnily enough, Dick did win most often, which Jason supposed would lend credence to his idea that it was about ‘skill’), but they’d generally played a lot of different card games. Jason had come to find Dick couldn’t remember how to play anything but Go Fish. “Damian, are you playing or not?”

Damian slunk down from the chair, closing his notebook as he went. “I’ll play, only so I can beat you.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and decided to pick his battles carefully.

“Yay! I’ll explain how.” Explaining Go Fish was more of a joint-effort. As Dick fumbled with the cards he was attempted to shuffle (which was so unlike his usual grace), he attempted to explain, only he frequently lost track of what he was saying, and Jason had to jump in. It was...a little concerning, to Jason, and it confirmed his suspicion that most of Dick’s ability to do things like play Go Fish relied on muscle memory. Once he was required to think it though and explain it to someone else, he faltered.

“Go Fish!” Damian declared smugly, towards the end of their second round. He had one card in his hand, and was taking far too much pleasure in repeatedly saying “Go Fish!” when anybody asked for a card.

Jason sighed and grabbed a card from the pile. “Oh,” he said. “I’m out.” He laid down his new pair of eights along with his other pairs. Damian leaned over and Jason had to hold back a laugh to see him counting under his breath. “And I win,” he said with a smirk, knowing Damian had just come to the same conclusion.

Damian scowled. “You probably cheated.”

Dick giggled, dropping his ten remaining cards, none of which were matches. “Jay always cheats.”

“I played this one fair and square. Like I play every game of Go Fish.”

“Whatever,” Damian said.

Jason had absolutely no reason to antagonize Damian. So, naturally, that was exactly what he did. “Don’t be upset you lost to ‘the superior Robin.’”

“Tt. You are not the superior Robin. Only Robins that manage to stay alive can be superior.”

Jason happened to glance back at Dick to see the playful smile drop off his face. Jason’s retort died on his tongue.

“What?” He looked between Damian and Jason, eyes wide.

“Nothing,” Jason said, kicking Damian lightly to try and give him the message.

Damian kicked him back, much harder. “Did Todd not tell you? He managed to get himself killed.”

Dick was staring at Jason now like he’d never seen him before. “What do you mean?” he asked, with a kind of dawning horror.

“Todd got tricked by the Joker and ended up exploding,” Damian said blithely.

“Damian, shut the hell up,” Jason said. Could the kid really not pick up on the mood, or was he, as always, being purposefully belligerent?

“He came back, eventually, but he’s the only one of us dumb enough to die for real.”

Dick stood suddenly. Damian seemed surprised by the motion.

“Dick-” Jason began, but Dick took off running. Jason glared at Damian. “What the fuck did you say that for?”

Damian blinked quickly, trying to wipe the bewildered expression off his face. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You know what you did,” he said, although in reality, he wasn’t sure that Damian did. He stood up now too, and cast Damian one last angry look before leaving the room. He jogged up the stairs, and stopped on the second floor instead of the third. The third floor was where Dick’s current room was. It was situated between Alfred’s and Bruce’s, with everyone else across the hall or not much further. That wasn’t where Dick went. Dick would have gone to the second floor, to his old room. His old room was a mausoleum, completely untouched and exactly the same as Dick had left it. After Dick’s “death,” no one could stand to look at it, but no one could bear to change it. So everyone simply relocated to the third floor, leaving a messy eleven year old’s room like some kind of memorial no one had the heart to visit.

Jason stepped into the darkened room to the sound of sobbing. Something tight in Jason’s chest tugged him over to the bed, and when he sat on the edge of it, Dick’s breathing hitched and his sobbing stopped suddenly. He hadn’t moved, his face was still buried in the pillow he was gripping.

“Hey buddy,” Jason said. Dick didn’t respond. Jason couldn’t remember if Dick liked to be comforted when he cried, or if he would want to be left alone. There were so many things he didn’t realized he’d forgotten about his brother, so many details the years had washed from his mind. “Are you okay?” he asked, and hoped his voice didn’t betray just how lost he felt.

Dick shook his head, not looking up from the pillow. For lack of anything to say, Jason slowly reached out a hand to place on Dick’s shoulder. When he first made contact, Dick stiffened, just for a moment, before he relaxed and suddenly he was crying again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jason said desperately. That wasn’t the affect he’d wanted. “Is this about what Damian said? Because I’m fine. We’re all fine now.”

Dick clutched the pillow tighter and if anything, sobbed harder.

“Dick, please, I’m okay-”

“No!” Dick exclaimed, shoving himself upright violently. His golden yellow eyes gleamed unnaturally in the low light, glistening with shedding tears. “No, it’s not okay, you’re not okay!”

“Dick…”

“I was meant to protect you. I was meant to keep you safe. I was meant to! And you—you died, for real.”

“I’m better now,” Jason tried.

“You died. And—and I know you died in my colors. You died in my colors with my name and I couldn’t keep you safe.”

Jason tried to swallow down the pit in his stomach. He did die as Robin, but it wasn’t Dick’s fault. It was Bruce’s fault, it was the Joker’s fault, it was Jason’s fault, not Dick’s. “It wasn’t-”

“Now I get it.” Tears started streaming down his face again, but this time, they were silent. “Why you’re so different. Why you’re not the same anymore, why you’re angry all the time. You’re not my little brother.”

Jason stared, dumbly, mouth open, unable to formulate a response. He wanted to say yes, yes I am, I’m still Jason, I’m still your little brother, but that wasn’t true? Was it? He wasn’t the same person anymore, and he certainly wasn’t Dick’s little brother. They couldn’t be who they were before. Time and circumstance irrevocably changed that, for both of them.

Dick’s breath hitched again, and he barely choked out his next words. “My little brother died, and I didn’t save him.”

There was nothing left to say. Jason didn’t know which of them moved first, but the next moment Dick was sobbing into his shoulder and Jason had his arms wrapped around him. He felt his shoulder getting wet from Dick’s tears and felt his own eyes start to water. It felt like finally admitted the truth he hadn’t wanted to face: their roles were reversed. Jason’s older brother may have miraculously come home, but Jason had grown up. It was time to face the truth, and stop running from his responsibilities. He was the oldest now, with the specter of Dick lifted (more or less) from the house. His younger siblings, Dick included, were his to take care of now, and it was time to do a better job of it.

#dick&jason #talon au #part 2 I guess #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #robin #damian wayne #talon!dick #sort of

60 notes · View notes

sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

Softer Than Silence

Read here on AO3!

(Takes place right after this fic which I wrote like a year ago and only now got to making a sequel for whoops.)

Summary:

“Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords.

Oh, god.

Tim doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up. He’s not even sure how he’s waking up. A slit throat in any universe should be a certain one-way ticket to the afterlife—don’t pass go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Dead. Maybe Tim is dreaming. Or maybe he’s dying right now and this is just his brain flashing forward to the future he could have had, “Owl Creek Bridge”-style. His ears feel like they’re packed with pillows, but voices make their way through his warped awareness like pencils poking through aluminum foil. “I say we should draw straws.” “Really, Jay? That’s your suggestion?” “You got a better idea, Dickface?” Someone clicks their tongue. “You’re both cowards. Let me be the one to tell him and I’ll have it done in less than a minute.” “I can’t even tell you all of the reasons I’m not letting you do that.” “Yeah, kid, your bedside manner fucking sucks.” “It’s better than yours!” “Will you both shut up?” Tim would feign sleep and listen longer, but the drug-induced haze is fading faster than he can keep up with. His throat burns with a fiery vengeance, flames creeping up his windpipe. He shifts, a hand instinctively grappling for his throat. Someone stops him. “Tim? You awake?” He opens his eyes. Dick is beside him, lowering Tim’s wrist back to the bed. They’re in the medical area of the Batcave; he can tell by the dank air and a sliver of rock peeking through the gap in the curtain surrounding them. Jason and Damian stand off to the side, their expressions unreadable. Tim opens his mouth to ask them what happened, but before he can utter a vowel, Dick is squeezing his hand. “Don’t try to talk,” he says. Tim obediently settles back, wariness rising in his gut. He reaches up with the hand not in Dick’s grasp and discovers a thick bandage plastered over his neck. That can’t be good. “Do you remember what happened?” The man flicks Tim’s blood off of his sword. “I would love to continue this riveting visit of ours, but it seems like my mission is complete. Have a pleasant night, Mr. Drake.” Tim nods with a wince. “You were lucky,” Dick says. “Conner found you and brought you here just in time. You lost a lot of blood and Leslie had you in surgery for a while, but she was able to fix most of the damage.” Tim doesn’t miss the most, and Dick grimaces when he catches it as well. Tim arches one eyebrow—a clear, What aren’t you telling me? “Looks like that’s our cue to duck out,” Jason says. He grabs Damian by the shoulder and ignores the raccoon-like hands smacking him away. “Glad you didn’t die, Tim.” He ushers Damian out and they disappear, leaving Tim’s stomach curdling. He looks to Dick for an explanation. “There...there was a lot of damage, Tim. You’re lucky to be breathing right now.” That should be good, right? Tim is alive. There’s no tube in his neck so he can breathe on his own, and aside from some residual soreness under the buzz of the drugs, he feels fine. This is a monumental victory. So why does Dick look like he’s delivering a death sentence? Tim wants to ask, but he physically can’t do that. Dick doesn’t seem to be able to either. “Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.” Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords. Oh, god. The utter horror on Tim’s face must be unmistakable because Dick is rushing to comfort him. “It’s okay, Tim. You’re going to get through this.” But Dick’s voice is muffled by the ringing in Tim’s ears. He can’t lose his voice. He can’t. This isn’t happening. Tim scrambles to sit up, his breathing becoming ragged. He sucks in a deep breath, opens his mouth, and tries, tries to make a noise. Tries to make a single sound, but all that comes out is a rush of air. He’s shaking. He tries to speak, to yell, to scream, and there are tears running down his cheeks and his gasps are empty and his throat hurts but he doesn’t stop. Dick’s hand is on his back. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” Tim hates that he doesn’t even have the ability to argue, to tell Dick that there’s nothing to figure out. Tim can’t speak and meaningless encouragement isn’t going to change that. Nothing will change it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s an adjustment, to say the least. The first day, Tim holds out a flicker of hope that this is all some dream and any minute he’ll wake up again in the med bay, throat repaired and vocal cords intact. He can’t believe this is happening to him. In his entire life Tim never once considered what it would be like to lose his voice, never prepared himself for the possibility. He’s watched Cass trudge through reading assignments from Barbara and struggle to find the right words in a conversation, but it never occurred to him just how much Tim relied on his ability to speak. He took it for granted. His first day out of the med bay he finds himself slipping up again and again, opening his mouth in response to a question only to remember that that’s no longer an option. He doesn’t know enough sign language to partake in a conversation, so he avoids them altogether. He hears Alfred humming along to an opera album down the hall and is filled with a vicious, panging envy. Never again will Tim hum, sing, laugh. It’s all gone. Everyone keeps giving him the same droll sermons. He’ll get through this. It could have been worse; he could be dead. Cass manages just fine with sign language, and Tim can too. He should count himself lucky that the damage wasn’t more severe. But is he lucky? Is he really? Tim has already lost so much: his parents, his friends, his Robin career, Bruce. And now his voice. Life just doesn’t know when to stop taking from him. Maybe it will never stop taking, not until he’s an empty husk. Conner left for Smallville just a few days after Tim awoke. He never said why, but Tim knows it’s because he feels guilty. Tim wants to reassure him that this isn’t his fault, that Tim would be dead if Conner hadn’t saved him, but it would take too long to write down. Bruce taught Tim basic ASL shortly after he began his Robin training, sticking to the most rudimentary of phrases that one would need for crime-fighting. Yes. No. Please. Thank you. Help. Safe. Danger. Steph offered to learn sign language with him and Alfred left a sneaky pile of ASL books on Tim’s desk, but he hasn’t touched them. He instead relies on a whiteboard and marker to communicate, rarely as he does. His search for Bruce has been put on hold, not of his own volition. He supposes it’s fair. After all, Tim can’t even order a hamburger anymore without the help of his whiteboard. Not that he leaves the manor much, anyway. The bandage on his neck draws too much unwanted attention. He’d hate to see what Gotham’s press would conspirize about a Wayne son with a mysteriously slit throat. Tim’s days are spent in his room, working on cases out of the action. That’s what he does now, sitting on his bed with his laptop, music blasting through his headphones. Dick pokes his head in without knocking. They still haven’t devised a system for that yet. “Hey, you got a second?” Tim flicks his fingers in Dick’s direction: his way of acknowledging people these days. He pauses his music. “Damian and I are heading out on patrol now.” Tim says nothing. Obviously. “Alfred told me you didn’t eat dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.” Tim rifles through the papers sprawled around his knees and holds up a crumpled pink post-it. Throat hurts. “That excuse again?” Tim shrugs. “Look, I know you’re frustrated, but what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You know that, right?” Tim twirls a finger in the air. Whoop-dee-doo. “That’s real mature.” Of all the things I have to worry about right now, I’d say maturity is pretty low on the list. Not that Tim says any of that. He doesn’t know the signs and he let his whiteboard fall off the bed somewhere to his left hours ago. He doesn’t bother reaching for it. Dick comes closer to the bed and stops. “Can I sit?” Tim shrugs and goes back to his laptop. Dick sits on the edge by Tim’s knee and reaches over to close the computer. Tim flips him one of the few ASL signs he does know. “You have a right to be angry about this, but you can’t project that anger onto us. Me, Damian, Alfred—we’re not the ones you’re mad at. And we all want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t let us. So start letting us.” Easy for him to say. But Tim knows he’s right, as infuriating as it is, which is the only reason he doesn’t turn his music back on and shut down for another week. Sighing, Tim opens the laptop. He pulls up a blank word document and types for a moment. He turns the computer around to show Dick. Speech for Neon Knights foundation in a couple days. Already written. Just need someone to deliver it. Dick nods, smiling. “Sure. I can take care of that. And it’s okay if you need more time to work through this, but I want you to remember that I’m here if you ever want to talk. Or, well—you know what I mean. Just remember you’re not alone in this.” Tim wishes he could tell Dick the truth. That Tim does appreciate everything he’s trying to do—really, he does. Tim doesn’t know where he’d even be if he didn’t have Dick by his side, making the world a brighter place just by existing in it with his endless patience and unfaltering optimism. If only he had the voice to tell him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason wouldn’t call himself a particularly caring individual. That sort of legacy is better left to the real heroes, like Bruce and Roy and Dick-fucking-Grayson. It’s for this reason that Jason didn’t stick around for a hot second when Tim got hurt, nor did he return for the aftermath. Tim is dealing with enough shit right now. He doesn’t need his asshole older brother getting involved and making him feel worse. Jason can’t imagine what it would be like to be in Tim’s situation. For starters, it would utterly butcher his knack for smartass remarks. Plus, there’s no finer euphoria than screaming obscenities at a blubbering criminal right before he puts a bullet through their skull. Losing his voice would be losing half of what makes him the Red Hood. Red Robin, on the other hand...he’s always been quiet. Not like Cass, but getting there. He relies on shadows and ninja-like swiftness to get the point across that this is goddamn Red Robin and you should be wetting your pants in his wake. But Jason’s smart enough to know that the silent schtick is done by choice. It’s a maneuver and a learned behavior rolled into one. He can only imagine how torturous it must be to be silenced by force—to be muzzled by something completely out of his control. (Fine, so Jason cares about the kid a little. Sue him.) He goes into the Batburger restaurant (Jesus shit, whoever came up with the idea of a Batman-themed restaurant should be shot in the head. Or maybe thrown a parade. He can’t decide) and scouts for black hair and pale skin. He spots Tim in a booth all the way at the back and heads over, sliding into the seat across from him. “Hey, kid.” Tim picks his head up from where he was engrossed in a game of Solitaire on his phone and gives a two-fingered salute. A notepad and Superman pen sit on the table in front of him. “Did you order yet?” Tim points to the scar on his neck and Jason mentally slaps himself in the forehead. “Right.” Tim picks up the pen and scribbles for a minute. “What,” Jason says, “no whiteboard today?” Tim turns the pad around to show Jason. Too bulky. People notice. Below that: Nuggets, fries & grape zesti. “Magic words?” Tim rolls his eyes. He tears out the page and bounces it off Jason’s forehead. However, he does lift his right hand and rotate it in front of his chest, palm flat: the ASL sign for “please.” Jason recognizes it from his minimal knowledge accumulated from Robin training and conversations with Cass. “Attaboy. For a minute there I was worried Alf failed in making a decent person out of you.” Tim sticks his tongue out, which makes Jason chuckle. He goes to the counter and relays Tim’s order, along with his own. While he waits he dares a look back and finds Tim back to staring down at his phone, shirt collar pulled as high as it’ll go. What must it be like, going from Gotham’s favorite billionaire playboy-in-training to a silent teenager who can’t go to a restaurant without people staring at the killer scar across his throat? Jason’s seen the gossip magazines. Some speculate a failed assassination, while others are sure it was a suicide attempt gone wrong. At least Jason’s scars can be covered by a t-shirt. Tim can’t hide his without a turtleneck, but it’s summer now. He’s forced to endure the speculated theories and pitiful glances, meanwhile Jason has the benefit of being legally dead on his side. He doesn’t have to worry about people remembering him. Losing one’s voice only months after losing his second father figure is tough shit for a seventeen-year-old. For anyone. He doesn’t know how Tim does it. Jason goes back to the table and finds Tim doodling a stick figure on the notepad. It’s got thick, narrowed eyebrows and pointed teeth. “That supposed to be me?” Tim’s mouth quirks. He fingerspells, Damian. His sleeve falls down an inch, exposing a med-alert bracelet. Alfred must have made him start wearing it. What with his asplenia and nasty habit of fainting in places when he forgets to eat, it makes sense that Tim would need it. If something were to happen, it’s not like he can inform paramedics of the deal. “You really captured the evil in his eyes.” Jason takes a bite of his cheeseburger while Tim busies himself with arranging his fries in size order, the little weirdo. “So how are things at home?” Good, Tim signs, his movements clunky and unpracticed. Dick… He frowns and scribbles on the pad. Helicopter parenting. “Same old, same old, right?” Tim levels an unimpressed look. “What? It can’t be that bad.” Benched indefinitely. It sucks. “Can you blame him? I wouldn’t want you in the field like this yet either.” Cass, Tim writes, and leaves it at that. “But she’s been functioning without speech for her whole life. She doesn’t need it to be understood. You’ve only been doing it for two weeks.” And a half, Tim writes. “You know what I mean. ‘s not like you can call for help if you get gutted in an alley.” Never thought I’d see the day when you’d take Dick’s side. “Yeah, well, sometimes the fucker has a point.” He takes a sip of his soda. “You know, I talked to Babs yesterday. Said she’s working on tech that’ll let you use morse code over the comms. If she finishes it on schedule, you can be back out there in less than a month.” Tim just nods, eyes dimmed. It’s weird seeing the kid so quiet. The real trick used to be getting Tim to shut up. He used to spend hours rambling on and on about whatever science kick he was on at the moment. For as quiet as Red Robin could be, Tim Drake never ran out of things to say. Jason misses it. He throws a sesame seed at Tim. “Hey. I’m trying to have a conversation here.” Tim makes a gesture that Jason doesn’t recognize. At Jay’s confused look, Tim writes on the notepad, Fuck off. “Cassie teach you that one?” Steph. Wanted to learn curse words first. “Of course you did. You know, you should hit up Jericho. He knows exactly what you’re going through, and I’m pretty sure he was able to teach Dick sign language in less than a year.” You’re the fifth person to say that. “I’m a fucking genius, we know this. But seriously. It might be useful to have someone in your corner who knows how to cope with this kind of thing.” I’m coping fine. “By listening to shitty emo music all day in your room? Yeah, because that’s super healthy.” Tim twiddles the pen between his fingers, glaring at Jason. Finally, he puts it to paper. I keep calling my cell phone to listen to the voicemail. Jason blinks. “Why?” Don’t want to forget what my voice sounds like. “You won’t.” Forgot my mom’s after a year. Starting to forget my dad’s. Tim pauses before adding, He yelled a lot though, so I think he’s got a lead. Jason has no fucking idea what to say to that, thanks for asking. He gives it a shot anyway. “Then...then I’ll remember it enough for the both of us. It's kind of hard to forget that annoying-ass nasally voice babbling about Star Wars for hours anyway.” Wow, thanks, Tim signs with an eye roll. No problem, Jason signs back. That makes Tim smile for the first time since Jason sat down. Maybe this kid will be all right, after all.

#i had no fucking idea how to end this okay #tim drake #red robin #robin #idiot duckboy #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #damian wayne #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic

114 notes · View notes

anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

A Lovely Intervention - Damian Wayne x Jon Kent & Tim Drake x Conner Kent

Words: 2.3k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Can you make a fic out your short where Damian is taking after his brothers? Maybe like an intervention or something? I love your shorts I basically binged them😁😁”

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I LOVE THIS! TimKon is my everything and we love Damian and Jon secretly taking after their brothers and it turning into a whole family moment. This req made me soft, thank you so so so much and I’m glad you like my shorts hehehe 💓 Hope you enjoy!

“We gotta talk get here asap.” Dick called his family, needing to investigate the current problem.

“I’m bringing Kon if you’re interrupting my day” Tim buzzed in, and Dick smiled, everything was going exactly to plan. “Yeah Red that’s fine, I want him here anyways” Dick replied, hearing the whoosh of Tim and Conner take off towards their rondevu point.

“Kay gang’s all here except the demon, you hiding him here somewhere?” Jason mocked, eliciting a harsh look from Dick.

“No, this meeting is actually about him, or about us. Have you guys noticed Damian and Jon trying to imitate us recently?” A lightbulb went off for Conner as he stole the floor, recollecting his most recent interaction with the boys.

“Oh my god yea, wait get this: I’m at the farm gettin’ work done so I could hang with Timmy - don’t blush babe everyone knew we were out together - yeah, then I see Damian tearing across the field with one of Ma’s horses. And I’m like ‘Hey Punk! She isn’t yours!’ and the kid gives me this shitty little smirk like he knows something, and he keeps going! Then he has the balls to flip me off! In my house?!?” Kon was waving his hands around trying to get the point across. “Is this gonna go anywhere airhead?” Jason interrupted, and Tim grabbed Conner’s hand, pulling him down back onto the ground after he began floating with anger.

“Shh babe lemme finish I was there too” Dick looked taken aback “TIM YOU SPENT THE NIGHT AT CONNORS? YOU TOLD BRUCE YOU WERE WITH THE TITANS” Tim quickly blushed and kept talking “Well yeah, but that’s not the point! I was watching Damian cuz he wanted to go over and ‘watch the stars’ which seems lame but the kid’s messed up enough maybe he needs some star gazing” Jason rolled his eyes, tapping his wrist to hurry his younger brother up. "Shit I took Kori star gazing a few weeks ago!" Dick mumbled before Tim got back to explaining.

“Sorry, sorry, so I wake up before Kon and go down and Jon is showing Damian pictures of all his pets then he ruffles Damian’s hair [ Dick audibly gasps ] yeah I fucking know, he let him touch him. Then it gets worse. Jon was wearing your jacket Kon. With the fucking spikes. The. Spikes. And Damian complimented him like I always do like he said ‘looking sharp Kent’ and that’s literally my line. So I have to do some recon but you’re right Dick, the kid’s a robot or something, not the demon” Kon nodded, finishing his story right after Tim “Oh my you’re right, Jon told me that he wanted to give Damian something to cement his feelings, like how I give you some of my clothes and souvenirs babe, except he gave the punk a whole ass horse!”

Dick realized it was getting worse that he thought. “This is good info guys, Tim I don’t think Damian is a robot but I think he’s taking after us, remember when I caught you trying on my Nightwing outfit? Jay you did it too, do I need to remind you about the Robin suit? And Kon you know what it’s like” The three boys shifted, uncomfortable with being called out by Dick.

“Alright so what do we do? Jump off a bridge and see if the demon follows? Kid doesn’t take after me so I don’t know why this is a problem?” Jason crossed his arms, still a little hurt by the robin reference. “Shut up Jay you’re with Tim running interference while Conner and I take the lead” Dick looked at the group explaining his plan. “Conner you’re talking to Jon about being himself, don’t roll your eyes they’re teens they need shaping in the right direction, it’s the least we can do. I mean look how well Jason turned out, you don’t want that happening to Jon!” Conner nodded, glancing at Jason who was openly scowling at the group. “Shut up Jay you’ve got the easy job unless you rather take mine and try to talk to Damian about his feelings. That’s where you guys come in, if Damian tries to make a break for it you’re security.” Tim and Jason high fived, excited at the possibility of having to cage a demon.

“So, plan A is the civil plan, plan B is caging the bird and then trying to be civil what happens if plan B fails?” Tim was well aware there were odds Damian wouldn’t want to hear it. Dick sighed, “well, plan C is disgusting Jon and Dami with Kon’s sappiness” and Kon cheered. “Plan C it is!” And it was time to set the plan (s) in motion.

“Dami look! I’m like a bat!” Damian tried to suppress a smile as Jon grinned, hanging upside down on the tree he’d climbed. “C’mon I can see that smile come hang with me!” Jon cooed and Damian easily scrambled up the tree, sitting on one of the limbs with his back against the trunk. “TT Kent I’m Robin not Batman, besides shouldn’t I be trying to impersonate your father?” he joked, tracing an S on his chest.

In a flash, Jon was pulled from the tree by his big brother. Damian jumped up, not sure what had taken Jon. “At ease soldier, it’s just Kon!” Tim walked up to the base of the tree, gesturing Damian down. Sliding down the tree Damian mumbled “your Kent stole my Kent” and Tim nudged him “so you’ve staked a claim huh?” and Damian blushed, looking down and walking towards the house. “Dames Dickwing needs you for something I think he’s waiting outside. “And you’re not coming? Gonna spend another night with Conner, who is your excuse this time?” Damian sneered as it was now Tim’s turn to flush with red. “Hey you wanted to go too! Don’t pretend like you didn’t hold Jon’s hand on the way over” Damian didn’t turn around, flipping Tim off as he raced toward’s Dick’s car.

“What’s with the super-snatching?” Jon huffed while Conner set him down on top of the family barn, the view of their home from on top of the barn was a favorite spot of theirs. “Well, uh, I’m never good at these but I’ve noticed you and Dames getting really close, and that’s really cool ya know”

Jon gagged and tried to begin climbing down from the roof, “oh god Kon no. I don’t want whatever talk you’re trying to give me. You really? Aren’t you already with a bat yourself?” Kon snorted “so you admit you wanna be with the bat?” and Jon huffed, sitting down again. “Maybe a little bit - what does it mean to you!” Jon refused to make eye contact with Conner. “Kid nothing’s wrong! But if you are I just wanted to give some advice, one SuperBat to another!” Jon shook his head at the cringeworthy ship name but eventually gave him attention back to Kon.

“What I’ve learned is that each of those boys is their own person, and so are we. And you know how hard that was for me to learn especially! So, I guess we’ve noticed you kinda trying to act like me and Tim but I just wanted to tell you that Damian isn’t Tim and you aren’t me, you gotta make your own path bro” Kon nudged Jon as he nodded, “yeah, I mean you’re right Damian is nothing like your coffee addict, he’s strong and passionate and really cares if you actually look deeper and - uh, yeah. I get what you’re saying.” Kon smiled, it wasn’t often they had a good “bro moment” but it went well. “Okay good talk bud, I’m gonna take ya back over now, but remember I’m here to give advice. You know Damian is emotionally constipated and so’s Timmy sometimes so I’m here when ya need me, okay bud?” Jon rolled his eyes “okay there we go, too sappy Kon, let’s go back... Oh no, are you guys trying the same thing with Dames?” Conner nodded, and Jon groaned knowing Dami was gonna be in a bad mood now if he hadn’t torn one of his brothers to shreds yet. “Let’s go back now”

“What do you need Grayson” Damian slumped in the passenger seat while Dick began driving. He noticed Dick locked the doors and noted all the ways he could escape if Dick wasn’t who he seemed to be. “Not much little-D just wanted to chat n grab some food, I’ve missed ya!” Damian narrowed his eyes, “I thought you liked Kent, you let Tim sleepover too and he had significantly more fun with the clone than Jon and I, who knows what they were doing while we traced star patterns” Dick cringed, noting that he’d have to talk to Tim later. “Well this is actually about Jon! You’ve gotten really close huh?” Damian shifted in his seat, getting a clear view of the car’s side mirror which showed none other than Red Robin trailing a couple hundred feet behind Dick’s car. “What is happening Grayson, we’ve done nothing wrong, not to mention nothing the clone and replacement haven’t done,” Damian couldn’t fathom why he was being tortured by his mom brother.

“That’s just the point baby bat, you and Jon haven’t done anything for yourselves. You invited Jon to star watch, Kori and I did that two weeks ago, Jon’s ruffling your hair the way Kon does Tim, and you’re saving news clippings from your adventures with Jon just as Tim does with Kon. It’s time to be your own guy Dames!” This was too much emotional intervention for Damian. Noticing Tim had fallen behind he pulled the lever on the car seat and use the momentum of it flying forward to push himself out the car’s side window. Never without his tool belt, he grabbed his grapple but cursed Smallville for having nothing good to swing towards. He heard cars honk and a child threw themself out of a window, rolled smoothly on the grass beside the road, and took off.

He was in the clear until he heard the rev of Red Hood’s motorcycle. Muttering under his breath he pulled out the comm he and Jon had exchanged just a few days before, he’d seen Jason do it with his teammates why shouldn’t he? As he signaled Jon he let his thoughts divulge for just a second at how similar he was to his brothers, and how Jon really liked to copy Kon as well. “Might have a point but this is good fun” he mumbled as he radioed Jon.

“They try the intervention?”

“I think I’m still being intervened for lack of a better word. Care to give me a lift these damn Smallville buildings aren’t big enough to swing from.” Damian heard Jon chuckle. “I would say ‘I’m on the way bird-brain’ but I think that’s Kon’s line and we aren’t supposed to do that anymore” Damian groaned at the realization they’d already gotten to Jon and knowing him he’d want to talk about it with Damian. There truly was no escape, but Jon was better than getting captured by Jason and Tim.

“C’mere you little shit!” Jason screeched as he saw Damian pick up the pace. Damian would usually know when he’d lost and go in for a fight but the kid kept running. “Something’s up, he’s not fighting” Jason lookup up to see Tim soaring down towards Damian. “Wings aren’t flapping Drake you’re not airborne much longer” Jason noted as Tim cascaded through the air. “Long enough idiot, pick up is on the way”

“of - fucking - course it is” Jason stopped in his tracks when he saw not only Jon but Conner flying in, Conner on Jon’s tail. “So is this just a fun exercise now? I think the kids got the message” Tim had connected Kon to the group. “Leave ‘em be let’s go for plan C” Dick told the group and the comms filled with Tim’s groans and Kon whooping. “Nah I’m out but I still wanna give ‘em a run for it. Dami is smart he’ll figure out what he and Jon are” Jason tried to sound caring and thoughtful, but really he wanted to chase Damian and not have to watch Conner makeout with his brother. “Alright we can talk later, go get them” Dick gave the go-ahead and the three took after their younger brothers who had quite the head start.

“Clone is on our tail, can’t you go faster?” Damian complained. “Good one Rob but if I’ve got this correctly I’m the one carrying you.” Damian rolled his eyes, using his wrist computer to find the quickest hiding spot. “Left here, hard turn” Damian instructed as Jon dove into a field of grains. “Not that hard idiot” Jon laughed and Damian couldn’t contain a giggle. “Well they won’t find us... what should we do?” Jon poked at Damian.

“Sometimes I wonder how I befriended you”

“So you admit we’re best friends!”

“Glad that’s what you got”

“Well now that we’re here wanna talk about our..... feelings?” Jon waggled an eyebrow at Damian.

“Forget it, Jason finding me is better than this” Damian began to get up when Jon grabbed his hand, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Stay with me Dames, just for a little” and though Damian wouldn’t admit it, he was glad Jon asked him to stay, because he was never good at the feelings thing but with Jon he kinda wanted to try. He wanted to find what the feeling of his heart pounding out his chest and his brain being fuzzy was, and just how he could feel it just a little more often.

138 notes · View notes

m00nslippers · 5 years

Text

Just a few more of Jason Todd’s feats (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

This is continued from Part 1, where I went through most everything relevant in the Preboot-era for Jason that I’m aware of. The exception to that is the events of Countdown which does feature Jason but also had him fighting extra-dimensional people so there is not much relevance to the main DC universe, and Lost Days where he doesn’t fight anyone who has ever fought anyone else of note. Happily, Jason kept the vast majority of his stories as canon after the reboot, so the only things from Part One that are questionable are things that don’t take place in Batman comics. I totally forgot Nightwing: Brothers in Blood though so I’m adding it, even if it isn’t canon anymore.

As before, I’m listing the major fights where Jason fights against skilled vigilantes or assassins, basically people skilled/important enough that you can use the match to measure his ability, so I’m discounting fights with nobodies and goons and low tier vigilantes/criminals.

To reiterate from Part 1, Jason is often in a position to kill his opponents, so in many matches he could technically win at any point, but he chooses not to. In the New 52 and beyond Jason acts more as a hero/protagonist in many cases so he runs a lot less and fights other Bats less often. But as before in the case that he does run or the fight is inconclusive, I’m just going to call it a ‘tie’. I’m going to rate the outcome of matches as such:

Win - Jason kills, incapacitates, checkmates or otherwise defeats his opponent.

Tie with an advantage - Jason escapes or stops the fight with less damage than his opponent or having achieved more goals.

Tie - More or less an equal amount of damage, or goal achievement on both sides.

Tie with a disadvantage - Jason escapes or stops the fight with more damage than his opponent or not having achieved his goal.

Loss - Jason is captured, incapacitated, checkmated or otherwise defeated.

Let me just preface this by saying that many fights in the New 52/Rebirth, especially any instance where Jason fights alongside other batkids--especially Tim and Damian--Jason is purposefully made to look incompetent and the other superior, contrary to pretty much everything we know about Jason and Damian or Tim’s skills. Not that Tim or Damian are bad fighters, but Part 1 of this series makes it pretty damn clear that Jason is superior to both in skill/ability--which makes sense, he’s bigger and older and been fighting longer, there is no shame in that. So take the fights that involve them with a grain of salt, because most of them paint one or both characters as OOC. I usually try to be quick with the summaries of fights but I’m going to go into why some of these fights don’t make sense.

Nightwing: Brothers in Blood (1996)

Nightwing (Jason Todd) vs Nightwing (Dick Grayson)

Win - Jason actually saves Dick from falling off a building right before this, which Dick doesn’t really appreciate. They roll about fighting on the rooftop a bit with Jason seeming more playful while Dick is furious, ending in Dick hanging off the side of a building Lion-King style and Jason slashing his hand to drop him, effectively winning the fight.

Nightwing (Jason Todd) vs Nightwing (Dick Grayson)

Win - Dick leaps off a catwalk to try to fight Jason in civilian identity, which is silly but whatever. They trade some good blows but in the end, Jason knocks Dick out and escapes.

Batman, Incorporated (2012)

Wingman (Jason Todd), Redbird (Damian Wayne), The Hood and El Gaucho vs Merlyn, Sportsmaster, and thirty of the best League Assassins.

Win - Jason just walks through these guys. Damian shoots Merlyn with an arrow which was helpful but completely unnecessary and Jason electrocutes the guy. El Gaucho and The Hood help out but they struggle throughout. Jason casually takes out anyone who gets close. I only bother mentioning this fight at all because we are explicitly told these guys are THE BEST THIRTY assassins the League has, including named guys like Sportsmaster and it’s a joke. That is the level Jason is at.

Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011)

Red Hood and Starfire vs Lady Shiva, Manbats and Bronze Tiger

Tie with an advantage - Jason starts this fight chained to a pillar, which he gets out of in the blink of an eye. He then proceeds to punch out some manbats, gets in a fight with Lady Shiva, which he wins with a nerve strike, though it’s implied to be cheating by the dialogue, and then trades blows with Bronze Tiger. Granted, he gets in a tight spot with Bronze Tiger, for Star to jump in and assist. I’ll call it a tie, but anytime you take out Lady Godamn Shiva it’s a win.

Red Hood vs Ra’s Al Ghul

Win - This fight has more going on than just the martial arts, there’s magic Well of Sins/All-Caste stuff going on too, but generally speaking it’s a sword fight between Ra’s and Jason, in which Jason has the upper hand throughout and in the end he strike Ra’s down and strips him of the power of the Well of Sins.

Red Hood vs Ravager

Tie - Jason and Ravager are pretty evenly matched but it’s likely neither are trying their hardest because even after they stalemate each other, the fight ends and they go about their business.

Batman And Robin (2011)

Red Hood vs Robin (Damian Wayne)

Tie - By his own admission, Jason isn’t fighting his hardest against Damian. They exchange blows, Damian at one point has Jason at sword point, but Jason pulls an electrified baton like Nightwing’s, only Damian isn’t there, he’s escaped with his objective, which is Jason’s Red Hood helmet. So you may wonder why I classify this match as a tie when Damian seemed to get away with his objective. Well, it’s because Jason’s helmet can be remote detonated. Jason technically has Damian at a checkmate, but he’s not going to blow up his baby brother so I’d call this a tie.

Red Hood vs Batman

Tie - Jason is compromised through this whole fight but despite feeling betrayed and anxious he manages to hold it together pretty well. He and Bruce trade blows that results in a similar amount of damage but neither are really trying to win they just want to hurt each other. In the end, Jason is the one to decide to stop fighting and walk away.

Batman Eternal

Red Hood vs Batgirl (Barbara Gordon)

Loss - Even though Jason really is purposefully not hurting Barbara, because she’s been mind-whammied to think he’s the Joker, it still shows him getting his ass kicked more than it probably should. Basically Jason losses because he’s not trying to win. The win is waking Barb up, which he does, so it’s hard to tell how useful this fight is to gauge his abilities.

Batman & Robin Eternal

Red Hood vs Orphan (Cassandra Cain)

Win - Jason pretty clearly had the upper hand in this fight, though Cass gets some good hits in. Jason checkmates her twice, Cass breaks the first one when Jason is distracted on the phone with Dick, only for Jason to get her in another that could have resulted in real injury if Dick hadn’t stopped him from landing the blow.

Red Hood and Red Robin vs Bane

Tie with a disadvantage - First of all, Tim just gets in the way in this fight but it’s presented as if he is the smarter/superior fighter/strategist somehow. Jason gets a good hit or two on Bane even if he takes some bad hits too. But Tim straight up throws some birdarangs into Jason’s chest like an idiot and then when Bane manages to get Jason down, Tim pulls Jason’s gun and ‘checkmates’ Bane...except who in the hell believes Red Robin would actually pull the trigger to kill Bane? Nobody, so it’s a stalemate at best. This fight is dumb and Tim especially is written stupidly in this fight but I’d be remiss if I didn’t include it.

Red Hood and Red Robin vs Azrael

Tie with a disadvantage - This fight is less out of character but is still stupid. It shows Jason on the ground right at the beginning but doesn’t even show how/why that happened. Red Robin refuses to run when Jason tells him to, as if he’s going to have better luck against the guy, and jumps into the fight with Azrael. He knocks off his helmet somehow but then pretty much gets whooped, at which point Jason gets a good knock on Azrael, steals Tim and escapes.

Deathstroke (2014)

Red Hood vs Deathstroke

Win - Granted, Slade says his healing factor is compromised in this fight, but when it comes down to it, that doesn’t make him fight better, just bypass damage. They trade blows pretty evenly but as soon as Slade seems like he might get a real hit on Jason, our Jay just shoots him and it’s over.

Robin War

Red Hood vs Robin (Damian Wayne)

Loss - This fight is short and completely stupid. Jason doesn’t land a hit, Damian essentially knocks him out with the ground.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016)

Red Hood vs Artemis of Bana-Migdall

Tie - Artemis has an overwhelming strength advantage over Jason, shattering his helmet with one punch and deflecting his bullets, but Jason does manage to briefly knock her out with the tazer in his bodyarmor, which some might call a win, but considering he was on the ropes most of the fight seems like a reach. After this they team up, and the fight ends without a clear victor.

Red Hood and Artemis of Bana-Migdall vs Orphan, Azrael, Batwing and Clayface

Loss - Hey, remember those fights with Azrael before in that trash comic that shall not be named? This is a more accurate representation of Jason’s strength. Jason starts off fighting Batwing, Clayface and Azrael, which he seems to easily be able to handle individually and in twos, while Artemis takes on Orphan and gets a hit in on the other opponents when there are openings. The fight seems pretty well in hand until Bizarro is taken out, causing Jason to turn to save him, at which point Batwing tasers him with a shot in the back. Despite technically losing, Jason was clearly superior to any single fighter on the other side who participated.

Red Hood vs Batman

Loss - This is the only time Jason has ever outright lost to Batman, but he was compromised and rushed through the entire battle, having been trying to rescue his friends and then reacting to their presumed death. He made a few defensive maneuvers and counters but it was clear he wasn’t trying to fight, whereas Batman beat at Jason, even when he was checkmated. Despite being rescued by Arsenal at the end of the battle, Jason definitely lost, but it’s difficult to say how invested he was in winning to begin with.

Teen Titans (2018) Annual 1

Red Hood vs Robin (Damian Wayne)

Win - Jason starts off the fight trying to avoid fighting or hurting Damian. He lets Damian get in a number of hits on him without retaliation, until Damian pulls some kind of box that seems to upset Jason enough to get a real fight going. At this point Jason destroys Damian, the kid really never had a chance. And Damian resorts to trying to stalemate Jason with a suicide bomb, which Jason calls Damian’s bluff on and just leaves the battle with Damian defeated.

Conclusions

Fights from the New 52 and onward involving Jason are inconsistent compared to those before the reboot.

In his own title he fights mostly within a team and has few solo fights with street-level martial artists to really gauge his abilities.

The few times he does though, it upholds the skill that he is shown to have in the preboot era, showing him defeat Lady Shiva, Ra’s Al Ghul and survive in a match against Bronze Tiger, Ravager and Artemis of Bana-Migdall.

Taking into account all of his feats, it’s pretty easy to point out which fights are outliers: every fight with Tim in Batman and Robin Eternal and the fight with Damian in Robin War. Some other fights in Batman Eternal are also suspect.

Before these instances Tim never really had much chance against Jason in past fights. He could get good hits but for the most part he was on the defensive and absolutely nothing has changed to make him suddenly superior enough to perform better in fights or treat Jason the way he does in those comic runs. Jason is just completely written out of character in those runs. He doesn’t even act like himself most of the time.

Similarly Damian beating Jason at all is stupid, especially since it’s later shown Jason is still superior enough to Damian to basically toy with him. Damian being shown easily defeating Tim is also dumb because Tim tends to do better against Jason than Damian so really Tim should be a slightly better fighter than Damian.

A number of other fights also show Jason not dodging big, clearly telegraphed punches or dive kicks that make him look really incompetent, and which he would never be shown getting hit with in his other appearances.

The only fight involving Jason in those comics I’m not dismissing out of hand is Jay vs Cass. Cassandra fans will probably be upset with Jason beating her, but with Jason easily beating Shiva, and Cassandra also shown beating Lady Shiva in Detective Comics, it’s consistent at least. I’m tempted to say she wasn’t really trying, but considering Jason was about to open her up, that would be a pretty dumb decision. Unlike Jason, all of Cassandra’s appearances from the preboot have been completely retconned, so you can’t take any of them into account in this new iteration of her.

Basically just anything involving Jason in Batman Eternal and Batman and Robin Eternal and Robin War is stupid and you shouldn’t base your idea of his character on either of those runs because they’ve proven themselves to be inconsistent with EVERYTHING ELSE EVER WRITTEN ABOUT HIM.

Honestly the only good thing about his appearances in those runs is he consistently has the best one-liners.

435 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 5 years

Text

Put a ring on it

I’m not sure what this is, everyone. Had it on my docs for a while, got bored during work and thought ‘what if I just post this?’, and here we are. Basically the Core Four being loving and caring (and spiteful).

Shout out to @animemangasoul who pumped me up about this and @the-quiet-carrotcake and @iphoenixrising for letting me cry to them the Titans loving Tim.

Can be read as either ship or friendship

------.------

When shit went down, Wally and Roy made sure they were nowhere near the planet. A nice little interplanetary fuckery called for anyone free, and both of them had magically clean schedules, so off they went, praying to every god they knew about (and, with how many holy disasters they had faced between them, there were a lot) to be back after the worst of the mess had blown over.

Even if it meant missing the undoubtedly hilarious face Batman would make when he found out. Not even the chance of witnessing that was worth staying and waiting with bated breath until someone pointed out that, in the end, it was both their faults.

-So let me get this straight.

-Difficult for me, but go on.

Wally rolled his eyes, chucking a pillow at his little dude, wondering how Nightwing could do this with not one, not two, but three badly adjusted little brothers (and that without counting the girls, though, to be honest, they already had Babs). Truly, a hero of the ages. Arsenal just cackled from his place in front of the coffee table, where he was keeping them company and cleaning his equipment.

-I’m serious. I’ve never seen you this mad without a bad guy to blame for it.

-Well…

-As furious as you are at them, Bart, they are still the good guys.

-Debatable.

Wally threw another pillow, and Bart, arms crossed and all but vibrating on the couch, didn’t even bother on dodging. Just moved his particles quick enough that the thing went straight through him.

Arsenal raised an eyebrow at them- It’s scary when you do that. Like a freaking ghost.

-It’s scary that Tim’s whole family can be this level of neglectful, but you don’t see me bitching at them.

-Only because you know they’ll give you your ass back to you in a silver platter after they are done whooping it -interjected the older speedster, snack bag on his lap, a few more by the ground at his feet, sitting as close to Bart as the whole ‘don’t touch, I bite’ aura he had around him would allow.

-Kinky.

This time, Wally’s pillow was aimed at the archer. Roy just dodged without looking, still cross legged on the other side of the little table facing the couch.

-Real talk now, it’s not like they are jerks on purpose. We all know the Bats are on a whole new level of ‘always busy’, it’s to be expected they wouldn’t have time for social niceties.

Wally winced, scooting a little further away from Bart when he looked up to glare at Roy. That wasn’t a nice look. That was a ‘I can take you to someplace no one would hear you scream in less than ten seconds’ look.

-My seventeen year old best friend managed to finish high school after having to take a year off to go look for his missing mentor, going through several different mourning processes and dodging a frankly creepy cradle robber of a ninja terrorist, all while kicking ass and taking names, taking care of a huge as hell company, and keeping up the intel guy work for the rest of his shitty family. And he still graduated early. The least they could do after the fuckery he was put through by their collective stupidity would be go as moral support, but no. No, other things are more important than such a big milestone on his life. Fuckers.

Wound down after the rant, Bart dropped back on the couch, shrinking in place, oozing contempt from every pore.

Roy raised his eyes to share a look with Wally. Even if the bro code meant they were contractually obligated to defend their respective best friends, there was undeniable truth to Bart’s statement. Jason had gone on killing sprees for far less than Tim’s situation, and God knows Dick would have showed a big middle finger at his mentor and go off world with the Titans as a protest at the slightest fight. All in all, Red Robin was taking it like a champ.

-Jason’s busy with the Torinelli drug cartel thingie -tried Roy nonetheless, loyal as one could be.

Wally nodded- And Dick had already promised Damian to go on a camping-training trip that weekend...

-Great. So criminals that aren’t going anywhere and the ‘favorite’ demon child are more important than my best friend’s graduation, which isn’t even a long thing, just a couple hours and a few photos. Awesome. Do you happen to know Batman’s excuse? I mean, I’m sure is equally as shitty as his sons’ excuses, but, you know. Variety and stuff.

Wally sighed, because yeah, point. Were it Bart’s graduation, nothing short of the end of the world would have kept him from going, but, again, he only had one little dude to worry about. Dick’s house was full.

-You’ll be there -tried Roy, dropping his arrow back on the table and resting his crossed arms next to it, leaning forward to look straight at Bart-, you and the rest of the brats, right? Supes and Diana’s babies. You guys may not be related like that, but that’s not necessary for you to be family.

Like the Teen Titans were, went unsaid- the older heroes exchanged a glance, reminiscent of their days fighting side by side under Dick’s unwavering leadership. No matter where they were now, that’s where they both came from.

-Yeah -accepted Bart, but the frown hadn’t left his face-. It’s just. His parents are dead, his ‘foster’ bat-family are dicks. He has us, yeah, but… I wished he could have his family there, you know. Like, if I could adopt him, I would, just so he can have that.

Wally dropped the empty snack bag onto the ground and took a new one, tipping it in Bart’s direction as a peace offering- I mean, it’s still a month away, maybe one of them would clear his schedule and go? Probably not all of them, but anything’s better than nothing, right?

Bart harrumphed, hunching even lower in the couch, pout still present.

-If anything else fails -joked Roy, going back to cleaning his stuff-, I hear Kara’s single right now, and Tim’s an emancipated minor. Get them to marry each other, and then your Super friend is technically his brother- or something like that. Political families still counts.

Bart went still for a second, and if Wally were less invested in his snack and more on the thoughtful expression on his face, he might have known ahead of time that his next words were a bad, bad idea.

-And if she’s not on board, you could always ask someone else on your team. Team as family and all that shit, Tim would literally be marrying into the fam. Want some chips?

But Bart was already gone.

-Huh? -blinked Roy- Where'd he run to?

-...

-...You don't think he…

-What? No. No, of course not, they aren't so dumb...

For a horrible second, Roy and Wally crossed eyes again, both remembering the stupid shit they got up to when they were seventeen, and replayed the conversation. Their jokes, that anyone with half a brain would take as that, as silliness. Then came the thought that being stupid was almost a requirement for being a Titan.

With the kind of synchronicity one could only have after fighting side by side for years, they both jumped to their feet at the same time.

-I’ll hit Kori up, maybe she has some alien fuckery to deal with and we can tag along.

-Imma call Supes and let him know we’ll be off planet for a while. Shit, Dick’s gonna flip. He was the big B for a while, he knows stuff. Painful stuff.

-Dude, he at least doesn’t kill. Jay has guns, and it’s his favorite brother we’re talking about.

A shiver went through them when Batman’s reaction came to mind.

-If Kori’s not dealing with something, I’ll ask her to start shit up somewhere far, far away to give us an excuse to leave either way. She’s a goddess like that, she’ll help.

-Good thinking. I’ll start packing.

---.----

The secret meeting was held at one of Tim’s safe houses, because it had enough lead on the walls there was no risk of Superman overhearing them. Not that the owner of the place was aware of it; no one was, besides Cassie, Kon and Bart themselves. Keeping it hush hush was vital for the success of the mission.

-All on board then?

Kon’s smile could light up a town- Hell yeah dude. I’ll take care of getting Tim time off from work. Tam knows me and I’m fairly sure she doesn’t hate me as strongly as she does the bats. Fair warning though, she might ask to come with.

-She’s cool, so I’m in. We’re gonna need a witness anyway.

Cassie nodded, fierce smirk and challenge in her eyes- This is gonna piss so many people. Hey, do you think if we let Oracle in the know she’ll give us footage of the bats' faces when they find out?

Bart bit his lip- As crash as that would be, I don’t think it’s worth the risk.

Cassie deflated, but then shrugged it off- We’ll ask Tim, then. He’s as good as her with hacking, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

-If he doesn’t kill us first, you mean.

-Don’t be a coward, Kon. I thought you were in.

-I’m not saying I’m backing down, just that we should put our business in order in case he snaps and murders us in cold blood. I know he has it in him, if pushed the right ways.

She nodded, because point. The almost feral look on her face wasn’t gone, though- Worth it. I'll be in charge of clothes. You reckon there's any chance I can get a dress on him?

-Sure, if you want him to actually break his no kill rule.

-Fine, but he's wearing white anyway. It goes well with his skin tone.

Bart extended his first for her to bump- Now you're talking. I'll be the extraction man and take him to the place.

Kon crossed his arms, looking conflicted for the first time- We can't go the classic way about it, because a fake name would mean he won't take seriously what we're trying to do, and if we use his real one in a formal document, it'll hit the news before the ink has a chance to dry. And then he'll kill us for sure.

-You're awfully worried about him drawing blood, Blue. What gives?

-He's scared shitless of Cassie and you're too adorable to hurt, but me? I'm the one he's gonna focus his rage on, and you know how he gets when at his limit.

Cassie snorts- He can't live without you, you dork. I think we are all safe. And anyways, the plan is to make him too drunk to walk on a straight line, he wouldn't be able to hurt us.

-You say that -interjected Bart, getting up from where he was crouching above their carefully spread, color coded sheets of plans; Tim would be so proud- but I've seen the dude drop kick someone with a broken leg once. He can fuck shit up no matter the situation.

-True… still, we are doing it, right?

-Oh yeah, for sure, I just wanted everyone aware that it might be our last big bang.

-Then we better make sure it's one hell of an explosion, am I right?

-Hell yeah.

-This is gonna be so crash!

----.----

The entire thing had gone something like this.

On friday, Tam made Tim turn around and head back home the second he showed his face at the office, claiming the bags under his eyes clashed terribly with her new Prada handbag and she’d rather had it than him around. In Foxspeak, it meant ‘go the fuck to sleep or so help me God’. Tim would have fought back just on principle, but Tam had him at a standstill, because the spleen thing could very easily reach Alfred’s ears if he crosses her, and no one (him) wants that. As if to make sure he would obey, she demanded they share the car that would take her to the airport (did she have some meeting out of Gotham? He couldn’t remember) and dropped him at his Perch on her way there.

He wasn’t actually planning on sleep, maybe work some of his cases from home, start patrol early, possibly tracking Jason down to offer his help for the drug cartel thing. Confused by the unexpected way his morning had gone so far, he was woefully underprepared for a flash of red and yellow to whisk him from his living room the second he put his carrier bag on the ground.

It was only years from using his team as glorified uber drives what kept him from nerve striking Bart on reflex. Knowing whatever he asked would be lost to the background sound of super fast travelling, he merely slumped over the thin shoulder he was thrown over and waited till they reached their destination.

Which… he wasn’t expecting Vegas.

The next few hours were a blur of his team explaining they had planned this gateaway as an early graduation party, hugs and a few grateful tears on his part, and booze. So much booze. He was trained by Batman, he had a bigger than average resistance to… well, everything, and still, he got so, so wasted.

Saturday’s hungover was cured with more booze. They hit casino after casino, danced over tables, payed a bar owner to close for the night and let them work their way through his entire supply, went to some neon party at someone’s exceedingly large hotel suite (the guy wasn’t getting his deposit back), his cellphone was thrown on a fountain after Cassie got sick of it going off again and again with Dick’s predetermined ringtone, drank some more, were kicked out of yet another casino...

At some point Tam appeared (a very drunk Tim had hugged her and spun her around so fast her stilettos went flying and almost blinded someone), and they all went back to the hotel, where Kon basically manhandled him into a white suit. More booze when Tim started asking questions, followed by a two hour long stay at some park were Cassie, Bart and Kon took turns holding his hand, and then each others’, with Tam saying something about bonds, and family, and sickness, and health in the background, Kon muttering something in kryptonian and making Tim repeat it, Cassie dropping to one knee and sprouting some Amazonian speech, Bart jumping on his back after his own speech (futuristic laws and all) was done, then more booze, partying and….

Well, everything was a blur, before and after that.

They woke up saturday morning with the worst headache, in a undignified puppy pile back at their suit, minus Tam who apparently had her own room. Kon’s TTK took care of the blinds and Tim blinked awake at the sound (Robin instincts), looked at his sleeping friends and then went back to sleep, head pillowed by Bart’s butt, with Cassie’s knee denting his ribs and Kon’s arm thrown over his neck, completely disregarding the three rings hanging from his shiny new necklace.

That was a problem for sober Tim to solve.

---.----

Monday morning, Tim went back to the office, Tam by his side, acting like everything was perfectly fine.

Dick called after lunch asking about his whereabouts that past weekend, claiming he was missed during patrol, but backed down when informed he was actually relaxing with his friends. Bruce didn’t ask, probably had tracked him down the second he couldn’t find him and let him be after realizing he was at Las Vegas.

Everyone that saw them walking down WE’s hallways would have swore a trail of classic music followed them, graceful and elegant.

In Tim’s mind, however, the background sound was the kill bill sirens and blaring red lights.

Tam felt like a queen, coming back after conquering treacherous lands.

Tim felt like Jason may have been onto something when he died.

----.----

When the Big Day (capital letters included) arrived, and Tim got into the stage to accept his diploma (Honor Student, of course), his eyes automatically went to the loud, rowdy teenagers, sitting as close to the front as possible, cheering and smiling.

He was far enough that it could’ve been a trick of the light, but he thought he could see all three of them going misty-eyed. His own eyes watered when he shook the headmaster's hand and posed with his diploma for the cameras (Wayne Heir Graduating would be trending on every magazine by dinnertime), his friends never stopping yelling his name.

When the time came to throw the little hats, he catched by the corner of his eye how Bart held both Cassie’s and Kon’s hands, keeping them from flying in their emotion. If one paid close attention, their feet actually were floating juuust above the ground. They were just so genuinely excited for him, it was… it was amazing.

After as little smalltalk as possible with his classmates, he sneaked away into some hidden spot, away from prying cameras, and waited. Sure enough, his best friends were there barely ten seconds later, and using that same speed, they swept him off his feet. Bart was the first, latching to his front, Kon a close second jumping on his back and hugging his head. Cassie, ever the showoff, threw her hands around the three of them and spun them around as if they weighted nothing to her. That was probably the case.

-You did it, you did it, you did it!!!! Oh my god, this is so crash!!!

-Not that we had any doubt, with that big brain of yours. Making a girl so proud.

-Speak for yourself. Personally, I feared the worst. This is Gotham, after all.

-But nothing happened! And you GRADUATED!

Tim let out a laugh, allowing himself to just feel joy. Letting them see him like that, as payment for being the most awesome friends (family) in existence, he returned the hug, squeezing back as strongly as his non meta arms could.

Then, a voice behind them that he absolutely didn't expect- Congratulations, Master Timothy.

Without letting any of them go, Cassie turned around, so they could all see Alfred Pennyworth, in his Sunday’s best, looking proud and warm, his eyes glazed over with nostalgia when they landed on his young charge. One of the young men he had the honor to watch grow into the amazing person he was today.

Even more surprising, he held a tablet on his arms, screen facing them, with a familiar figure there, white streak and leather but no firearms, probably cautious of possible civilians around.

-Hey, baby bird. Sorry ‘couldn’t be ther’ p’rsonally. Hope ya don’t mind me an’ Alfie crashing like this.

-A-Alfred? Jason? What… I thought you were in Russia!!

The man on the screen scratched the back of his head, visibly uncomfortable but determined.

-Am, actually. But it’s yer big day, babybird. Wouldn’t missit for the world.

Tim’s already watery eyes just overflowed.

-----.----

It took a month for shit to hit the fan. Tim was honestly impressed, because things rarely went his way, and getting more than a few hours to mentally prepare for Disaster? Unheard of. What a shocker.

When it did went down, it was in large part because he was milking the ‘no metas in Gotham’ rule that kept his team at bay and allowed him to go days without sleeping. Kon would say it was karmatic retribution for ignoring their orders to relax and take it easy. He would protest, but really, how to deny the truth; if not for his sleep deprivation, his secret would have gone a lot longer without being unveiled.

Between hacking into Lexcorp, running the dna samples he took during patrol half an hour ago on the database and finishing his report of the night, he was out of fucks to give. Damian bitching on his ear was the last drop.

-...And your mere presence here is an insult to Grayson's legacy. He founded it, Todd died for it, what did you even contribute to it?

A slow blink. Tim was aware his brain to mouth filter was as good as gone, but tired as he was, he just didn't care.

-Besides providing the brains on this whole fucking operation? Pants, I guess. Common sense. Ninja skills commended by your own grandfather, the king of ninjas. Virtue, too, since Dick is a verified hoe and Jason slept with your/

-C'mon Timmy -cut in Dick, Nightwing suit halfway down his chest, when Damian's face was turning an alarming shade of blue- aren't you a little old to be fighting a kid?

-Who are you calling kid?!

Typical, big bro to the rescue. Tim was too tired to be disappointed that once again Dick was siding with an eleven year old bully that kept harassing Tim. Never mind that he had been minding his business before Damian came to bark at him.

-Boys -chided Bruce and, huh, Tim had said that out loud. Whatever, not like it wasn't true. Fuck them.

-Fuck you -he told… Bruce? Dick? Definitely Damian, too- all.

-Tim! -gasped Dick. Still half naked. Standing right by Damian's side.

That kid was going to have a very uncomfortable sexual awakening any day now.

-SHUT UP, DRAKE! YOU ARE DISGUSTING!

Wow he really needed to stop talking out loud.

-Tim -And now Bruce was walking towards them, frown firmly in place- you are obviously too tired, if you can't control what comes out of your mouth. Go to sleep.

Tim hissed at him. Dick looked too shocked to answer but Bruce, somewhat used to that reaction of the sleep deprived teen, loomed even more.

-I'm an emancipated adult. I control your company. I live on my own. You're not the boss of me.

Now even Damian was looking at him open mouthed. Whatever. The computer pinged with his results, just as his phone did with his 'The hubbies and waifus' group chat.

-What's gotten into you, kiddo? -now Dick was worried, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Still half naked, that was an important detail.

Tim shrugged him away.

-Fucking demon spawn coming from nowhere to fuck with me just for the hell of it puts me in a bad mood, I'm weird like that -he deadpaned, replying to the group chat one handed- And the rest of this fucked up team siding with him just because he's a bad word away from a violent psychotic break doesn't help. Fuck off and let me do my shit, and I'll be out of your hair before you know it.

And then, with a sneer, ignoring both Bruce's and Dick's flabbergasted expressions, Damian said what would be Tim's down fall.

-Go to hell, Drake.

A ping made Tim look down at his phone and he replied without thinking, one hand tapping away at the screen- Wait, let me ask my wife.

A beat of silence. One sneer, one grunt, one surprised gasp.

Bruce made a half step towards him- Tim, what/?

A ping.

-She says no. Hang on, let me get you a second opinion, just to be safe.

-Timmy, what do you mean/?

Another one.

-Husband number one says no, too. Husband number two hasn't replied, probably asleep or traveling somewhere, but two already win by majority. It seems it's a ‘no’ on going to hell for me. Bummer, it would have been funny seeing your homeland, brat.

-...

-Aaaaand that’s my cue to interrupt -announced a new voice above them all. Kon, phone at hand, looked down with half amused, half guarded expression-. Someone hasn’t held their end of the deal and slept eight hours, huh, bud?

Tim, ignoring his family that hadn’t yet recovered from the bomb, shrugged- I slept eight hours. This past week. You never said they had to be consecutive hours.

The super just sighed and landed long enough to haul a too tired to resist bird in his arms- I can see you aren’t getting any sleep in Gotham. Let’s go back to the Tower, Cassie wants us to see The Princess Bride with her again.

-Don’t lie to me, you liar.

-Bart wan/

-Look at my face and tell me the truth.

-Okay, I want to see The Princess Bride again -he conceded, taking flight towards the closest exit, sleepy bird cocooned in his arms and TTK- Later, bats!

-...

Finally, Dick snapped back to reality, although the background noise in his head was one would expect in suspense movies right before the assassin jumped a unsuspecting protagonist- ...did he say ‘husbands’? As in, married?

-...

-AS IN MORE THAN ONE?

----.----

#Tim drake #kon el kent #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #tam fox #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #core four #crack wedding

172 notes · View notes

iphoenixrising · 5 years

Note

you know, I really love how badass and capable Tim is but I’m weak for the trope where a character gets in a bad sitch (maybe held captive) and their love interests go nuts trying to get them back and they’re furious seeing he’s hurt and restrained (baddie tied + gagged them too tight?)when they do rescue him maybe Jay and Dick are so tender and caring oof what are your thoughts?

WELL BABE. I mean with characters like Tim Drake and Tony Stark, overprotective (boy)friends tearing through bad guy installations with feral intent to get Tim/Tony back just waters my crops and clears my skin. It’s fucking beautiful.

I mean, let’s just say

Once and a while, every vigilante has a bad fucking night.

It just happen to be Red Robin’s turn.

The residual owfuck isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. That is, once he gets himself out of this before terrible bad guys with an apparent fetish for brass knuckles and knives come back to finish the job. After a lucky shot took his zip line out mid-leap, the night had gone from generally shitty to progressively worse. Catching a hard fire escape knocked him mostly out on the way down. He’d initially come to when the fist to his solar plexus is just about agonizing.

Whatever hits he’d taken on the way down to the street damaged the suit’s security, which is the only reason it didn’t shock the shit out of anyone when they grabbed him by the arms, held him there for the first round of blows.

It’s an occasional thing, for one of them to get balls deep in imminent fucking peril. There’s nights when sleep dep and stress, the day job and night job colliding, too many bads and not enough goods, nights when a one wrong step, one bad contingency, one hesitation, is enough for them to get the drop.

Which leads them to this disgustingly dingy, blood-splattered warehouse down on the East Side, where Red is dangling from a chain in the ceiling like a side of raw beef for the slaughter.

And while blood is sluggishly running down the side of his face and his jaw feels like it’s on fire, while his gauntlets are useless and the manacles are on fucking point, when his chest fucking hurts and the fire in his side makes his eyes water because really, just a concussion can’t be enough.

(R – Robert, heh.)

When he’s giving himself a few minutes to just breathe it out, take a second to let the pain settle, half in meditation to try getting mentally past this for an epic kind of escape he’s about to pull off.

Any minute now.

But really, he just had a rough night, and the fact these ass hats left the damn door open is really just a testament on how easy this is going to be once he feels up to taking down a few thugs or twenty.

(And just why did he have to walk into an impromptu gun fight between two rival gangs that decided to work together instead – against him. What’s taken the groups out of the room is arguments on who was going to get the glory and what bosses to call and inform. He’s pretty sure he’s got about at least ten minutes or so before everyone comes back for another few rounds of kick the shit out of the vigilante.)

So, he’s good. Totally got this.

It’s in the bag.

Ten minutes.

His forearms get tight, wrists immobile when he starts pulling his weight up to get some slack on the connecting chain, going to need to have room to pick the locks–

when the abrupt tremble and loud sounds of shit just breaking comes through the open door, jarring him too much for his warped brain pan to handle, and he drops back down a few inches, grunting with the jerking motions on his upper body.

Gunfire explodes and people are absolutely screaming. Things get a little more real because at this juncture, it could be anything from more fighting between themselves or another rival group walking in on an obvious base of operations.

It’s apparent he’s out of time when several come running back in, guns out, panicked and talking over one another.

Dammit. His brain hurts.

But even if his fingers are numb still in his glove, he’s slowly working the lock pick set out of his useless gauntlets, looking forward to getting free fast enough to take out the room before even thinking of taking on the fuckery happening behind that door.

What he expects is to get more roughed up before the night is over. What he doesn’t expect is for a body to slam into the room, blood arching in the same angle as the nice landing right at Red Robin’s bound feet dangling a few inches off the ground. The second body immediately following fell close enough for Red’s whiteouts to narrow down at the face beaten to hamburger, a thoughtful noise muffled through the gag shoved in his mouth.

He has a moment to register, that looks familiar, before the impressive silhouettes fill the door, and the calvary has apparently arrived.

To say he is literally boned is probably an understatement because he can see the tension all over them. Tight fists and forearms, shoulders squared, thighs tense, and game faces right the hell on.

It’s the terrifying vigilantes Nightwing and the Red Hood, towers of kicking ass and taking names –

and the thugs in the room gape at the picture those two make, blood sprays all over their suits, smoking barrels and sparking escrima sticks, lips curled up off N’s teeth to snarl, Hood to lower his chin enough that those whiteouts are fixed.

He catches a breath through his mouth since he’s pretty sure his nose is broken or dislocated, beaten body tensing for one of the thugs to get smart, turn, and fire at him.

But, it doesn’t happen because the Red Hood and Nightwing strike like an avenging wave of brutally beautiful justice. They move together like water, the fight never stopping until the bodies are piled high, a job well done. And as much as Red Robin would like to say he feels something crazily like relief, the all together different noise he makes through the gag is telling on what else watching them fight (for him) does to him.

“Aww, Big Wing, lookit what those fuckers did,” is slightly distorted through the synths, and he must have blinked a little too long because suddenly both of his vigilante boyfriends are right there, bracketing him in, being absurdly careful when they run gloved hands over him to find injuries. Hood goes for the gag tied so harshly, N hurriedly helping from behind him.

“Hey Baby, you with us?” is soft and gentle, the contrast to the savage beat-down N just had a hand in a few minutes ago.

Once the cloth is out of his dry mouth, gloved fingers rub the indents, and the helmet is tilted up at him.

“H-how did–”

“Shh, shh. Gonna getcha down, yeah? S’good, Sweets, we gotchu.” Already stretching up on his toes to work the manacles fast while N sweeps up his bound legs from behind, holding him up to take the weight off his wrists.

“There we go,” and a nuzzle against his face, sweet relief when his wrist and hands pop free, and he tries to work the feeling back in his fingers, laying against Nightwing’s chest for just a moment to be dizzy and relieved.

“Thanks for the save,” Red Robin woozily banters, “bad guys can be such ass hats.”

“Don’t I know it,” Hood gives a solid kick to one of the bodies twitching on the floor before coming around to gently fit a gloved hand on Red’s bruised jaw, thumb the mask so the whiteouts slide up and they can see how dazed his eyes are. He n’ N exchange a worried glance while Red pats the hand on his jaw and maneuvers himself out of the octopus hold, a little wobbly but still on point.

“All right, I’m on clean-up since I was the metaphorical damsel this time–” is cut off with a whoosh of breath when he leans over enough to brace a hand on the wall when owfuck gets a little more serious than he expects.

“Nothin’ doin’.” Is Hood nipping that little sitch in the bud, already a towering presence at his side, a heavy arm sliding around his back, “me n’ N done already gave the coppers a heads-up, you feel me, Sweets?”

“We’ve already tied up most the rivals in the building,” Nightwing soothes the one to step up into his space and tilt his face up this time, “and you are going right back to the Manor to be patched up. You’ve got a concussion and who knows what else.”

“Hey, it’s okay, really–” because missing a spleen anyone? He’s been through worse, worked through worse, and still brought out his inner bad ass. These two? Need to take a pill.

“Nu-uh. Ya try ta ged outta it, then we’re callin’ in the big guns. You feel me here?”

And oh no. No, no, no.

“Too late,” is growled somewhere in the vicinity of shadows over their shoulders.

When Red Robin spins on his heel and almost falls, Hood and Nightwing move fast to catch him by the arms so he doesn’t fall in front of the very stern-looking Robin suddenly steps from the shadows, both hands out to steady him by the hips.

Looming over him like Hood and N, Robin’s forehead is wrinkled in that special way when he’s scowling behind the domino. Red Robin manages to gasp before all six-foot-two of concerned vigilante is all over his everything.

Everyone is well-aware Robin doesn’t take any of his shit and is extremely efficient. What few, select people only know–

–he can also be extraordinary gentle.

This time, when Red Robin is swept up against another chest, another symbol, he doesn’t fight it, not when the youngest leans down and says something softly against his ear.

“Let us care for you, Beloved.”

He sighs a little and lists closer, throwing an around around those shoulders and idly fiddles with the cape.

“Better,” Hood uses a gloved thumb to run over his busted nose.

“I want a hot shower and bed,” Red admits wearily, “I can be a stubborn ass about it some other time.”

N chuckles sadly, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s a good choice, Timmy. We’re going to find a second to eat between that, okay?”

He hums a little, trying to lay his face down on his arm somewhere that wouldn’t hurt. “I guess. Hot shower first, please.”

The bang of grapples echo against the sirens screaming in the night, and the Bats take off, flying over the rooftops to transportation not far off. Hood and N take driver and shotty so Robin can continue to cradle their bird on the ride back.

He might bitch good-naturedly about Hood driving the Red Bird like a literal bat out of hell, but it gets all kinds of shut down when Robin tenderly presses his mouth to the bruises on Red’s jaw and rubs soothing circles on the back of his neck.

Nightwing is the one that hops out and takes him from Robin to carry up to the Perch, talking low against his ear about the pick-up from the GCPD so he honestly feels better about where the night has taken him.

But it’s Jason Todd that runs a bath instead of the shower and strips down, runs gentle hands over the bruises and contusions, soaps him up to wash away the night. The two of them wrapped in towels while Jay sets his nose fast enough that it’s really not as bad as it could have been.

Dick towels his hair dry while he sits at the kitchen table, shivering, and Dami kneels by him to check out each injury with the first-aid tackle box in easy reach. Coffee is off the menu (a crime against humanity!) but the hot chocolate has been left to cool enough not to sting his sore mouth.

The eventual clothes are a combination from the communal drawer so he’s swimming in Dami’s shirt and Jay’s cut-off sweats, several ice packs bandaged over them on the worst of the swelling.

Grilled paninis and soup are utter heaven because A) Jay and Dami can cook, B) everything is easy to eat with a bruised face and cuts on the inside of his mouth, but also C) cute boyfriends keep giving him gentle kisses and touches whenever they come within a literal foot of him.

And they’re so good about it, taking care of him without being too smothering (at least no one has threatened to call his team – yet) through getting patched up and fed.

No, no, they wait for it.

Once he’s wrangled into bed, the three of them surrounding him in warmth and comforting touches, he’s pretty much trapped until morning.

Honestly, it’s probably the best part of the night.

#winter answers #with hurt/comfort #dickjaytimdami #night sky #my writing #cute boyfriends #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne

137 notes · View notes

whumpbby · 5 years

Text

I need help with a fic

I am writing some ABO JayDick for Titans and I have a half done, but I’m feeling it like, 50/50. Anyone would be interested in it?

The kid was gasping into his ear, again, so Dick moved him back – not by much, just a bit lower, so the feverish forehead could rest against his throat and the kid’s nose was back in close vicinity to his scent glands. Jason whined slightly at the change – or maybe because he could inhale Dick’s scent straight from the source again; or because of the touch. Didn't matter, Dick did his best to ignore the sound.

He did his best to ignore most of this situation, but it wasn’t going exactly great.

He was an alpha, after all, his whole makeup and every little single one of his instincts were built from the ground up to make sure he recognised and responded to situations exactly like this one. What he was trying to do now ran against the very evolution of mankind and Dick knew that he wasn’t strong enough to keep it up for long, but… but he had no idea what else to do.

Because the kid was seventeen and, from the looks of it, didn’t have many heats until now.

Dick could only imagine the look of disappointment on Alfred’s face if the butler ever heard about his grandson losing his head and – well, fucking his other grandson, because they were both idiots.

He wanted to blame the kid, he really really did. He wasn’t one of these assholes who blamed the omegas for their own harassment, he was smarter than that, knew that omegas could hardly help the way their bodies worked and there was way too many people willing to take advantage of them. As a policeman, he was doubtedly aware how rotten the world could be for some. He didn’t want to be one of these people, but… But was it an outreach to expect a certain degree of personal responsibility from others?

Dick sighed, breathing slowly though his nose, regretting that he didn't have the presence of mind to get a breather before he decided to lock the bedroom door in blind panic and confusion two hours ago. The air in the room was already heavy with biting sweetness of an adolescent heat and every breath was a fight to refuse the explicit invitation it carried. It was insane how difficult it was, even with all his training, to withstand temptation of an omega in heat.

Heat. Jesus.

He wanted to blame the kid, but he was too much of an honest bastard to ignore his own part in this shit-show – the part where he was the one who brought Jason to his old safe house.

“Shh, come on, calm down.”

He was using one hand to keep the kid’s head in place at his own neck and the other was wound tightly around the surprisingly slender waist; he was keeping the omega from moving too much and himself from slipping his hands lower, to where the strongest scent was coming from – Dick just knew the kid’s thighs were warm and slick. Jason knew it too and was doing his level best to make it happen, to direct Dick’s hands there, to find friction and more contact, no matter that they were already pressed front-to-front.

“Calm down, shhh,” Dick murmured in the lower register, in his alpha voice. He dared to stroke his hand through the dark tangled mane and cringed slightly when his light touch caused another high-pitched whine. “Shhh…”

He knew the kid was uncomfortable and there was not a part of Dick that didn’t regret it – Jason’s skin was oversensitive and keeping him bound was as close to torture as one could get. Omegas in heat needed to be surrounded by softness, they needed to be in a familiar environment marked by their own scent, with their pack members close at hand… for the heat to end without a hitch, they needed comfort above all else.

All Dick could offer was a bare room smelling of dust and strangers and a vague promise of safety. It wasn’t even remotely enough, he could smell the distress-scent raising off the boy in waves. It would be easier without the handcuffs, but… but it turned out that Jason was distressingly good at undressing others and very bad at fighting his base instincts.

He also had the filthiest mouth in the city. Dick always prided himself on having a good grasp on his reactions, but it took only three minutes of the kid propositioning him to get him from zero to teeth-achingly hard.

The gag was a makeshift effort, but it did the job.

It was not right, at all, but it was either this or leaving Jason alone and expecting a heat-deluded, sex-starved and highly trained escape artist not to run and let himself be fucked by the first alpha on the street…

Dick ground his teeth at the sole idea and a low growl started to push its way from the bottom in his throat. Jason stilled at the possessive sound, momentarily limp and quiet, panting against the alpha’s neck, and Dick was at once grateful and disgusted with himself. He had no right to the young omega, he had no right to make decisions for him... but there was a part of him that still considered himself a part of the pack – and above the new kid in all the ways being the first son suggested. Dick was first to join the family and now he had to take care of Jason, no matter their differences or the anger, or the rivalry…

It was so stupid, now – the idea of them being rivals for the place in the pack - when it was clear that Jason as an omega will never be a danger to Dick’s position. He might be Robin now, but – fucking Hell, what was Bruce thinking to give him Robin!? To send an omega on the streets to fight with the psychos populating Gotham and trust that fronting as an alpha will be enough to protect him!

Dick stroked a hand up and down the kid’s back, a sure, strong caress, partly to calm him down, partly as a response to his own distress at the idea. Jason arched into the touch, his bound wrists shifting, fingers stretching to touch Dick’s hand behind his back – Dick let him, allowed their fingers to tangle together and lowered his head to nudge Jason’s temple with his nose. A short, gentle scenting, the kind reserved for the family, it was enough for Jason to release a happy little whine.

God, the kid was so affection-starved it was heartbreaking.

“It’s okay, Jay, it’s alright. I’m here, you’re safe.” He muttered little white lies, hoping for them to be enough – alongside his scent and touch – to make the heat more bearable, knowing it was only a half-measure. But the only other option was to give into his instincts and knot him, and that was something Dick wasn’t willing to do to either of them. No matter how his blood sang and how tight his trousers were getting, sex was out of question. He couldn't lay a finger on a kid that two days previously called him a “brother”.

Heh, he was such a fucking hypocrite, wasn’t he? To put so much stock into something that made him cringe from the get go, that made him so resentful towards the pup that dared to put himself on the same level… God, he was an idiot. He should be calling Bruce at the first whiff of slick! Great detective he is, really amazing, to miss something as vital about his successor as his goddamn secondary gender!

He was angry, yes, distracted by the new development, by Jason’s very presence, but that didn't mean that he could just stop paying attention and let the kid be dosed with an inducer by some asshole at the bar that also got tricked by the tough act. It took him altogether too long to notice that what was happening wasn’t an unplanned rut – an inconvenient thing to happen, sure, but not the end of the world. And it took Jason altogether too long to admit that his sudden fever, shivers and anxiety were the effects of drugs wreaking havoc in his body.

By then it was too late for anything else so Dick did the only thing that could save the kid from a cardiac arrest that was a very real possibility, because omega physiology was that ridiculously fragile – he slammed on the breaks, pushed Jason to the backseat of his car and preformed a textbook example of May’s Maneuver to force his body into a dry heat meant to flush the drugs out.

That’s where the problems started, because it has been over four hours and the dry heat looked well on its way to turn into a real one. Just his fucking luck!

Jason stirred again, slowly emerging out of the momentary haze and went back to trying to rutt against the alpha’s hip. Dick growled softly, not moving away – the omega needed to have at least some relief and their position allowed him for little movement as it was, pressed tightly together, with Dick’s leg between his bound ones to prevent escape. There wasn’t much he could do and soon enough even the simple movement exhausted him.

Jason whined again and Dick once more tried to shush him gently. He made a mistake of looking down and his stomach dropped when he saw the tears rolling down the flushed cheeks and gluing dark eyelashes together. Jason looked at him with painful yearning, eyes glossy with fever and tears, and for a while Dick got lost in trying to discern their colour. It was the kind of curious hazel that edged on green, with a thin stripe of yellow around the blown irises, and chips of blue thrown in here and there - if they looked this pretty in the gloomy shade of the bedroom, they had to look stunning in full light.

Uh oh, Grayson, a thought swam up from the depths of hormonal haze. Down boy, get a grip. It took him a full minute to realize how low his head dropped, how close his lips were to Jason's. Panicked, he attempted to move back, but just then Jason surged up and their foreheads met.

Dick froze. The omega closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, every breath ending in a tiny hitch, and Dick didn't dare to move. It was intimate, way too intimate; it was a demand for comfort form an omega in distress and his lungs seized on him. He couldn't move, because if he did, it would just escalate things, as his instincts demanded of him…

But then, wasn’t he trying to turn a river around with a stick? They were already far enough along and he was just deluding himself that it will end differently than what their nature demanded - after all, Dick already had his fingers inside of the omega, back in the car, already felt him soft and slick at his core as he struggled to stop what the older tried to cause… it was just delusion brought on by pride, wasn't it?

He was a stubborn bastard, they both were, Jason was also fighting the heat, Dick could see it clearly, the flood of hormones demanded things of him he wasn't comfortable doing. If he didn't fight, his scent could be so much harder to resist.

Dick rewarded the struggle with a slow nuzzle, rubbing his forehead gently against Jason's, nosing at his cheek with a low throaty rumble. Comfort - he kept telling himself. Comfort.

They just - they just needed to weather the first wave. Then it's all going to be okay. At least that's what he hoped for.

#headcanon #jaydick #fanfic #writing #titans #need an opinion #does it make sense?

56 notes · View notes

batfam-imagines · 7 years

Text

Captured

Prompt: OK FUCK UM SO LIKE U KNOW THE FIRST PROMPT LIST U REBLOGGED CAN I GET 4, 13, 15, and 20 WITH JASON (is that how this works?? Sorry if it's not)

4. “Walk out that door and we’re through”

13. “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

15. “Stop pretending you’re okay, cause I know you’re not.”

20. “I think you’re just afraid to be happy”

So I did my best!

“Walk out that door and we’re through, Jason” The words hurt, they tear at your throat like broken glass, but they still ring true.

Jason’s shoulders stiffen, “So you’re just going to break up with me? Is that it?”

“You’re out of control, Jay! Every night you’re out there, hurting one of your brother, killing people, becoming a fucking mob boss!”

“I’m doing what Batman can’t, Y/N. He keeps trying to stop crime, well guess what? You can’t fucking stop crime, that only way to make any kind of difference is to control the crime. If I run this city I can make rules, and anyone who breaks those rules dies. That’s the only way to make any kind of difference.”

“And what about me, huh?” You take a shuddered breath, “What if they try to get to you through me? They know that the Red Hood has a soft spot for me, you’ve had to kill thugs for me twice this month. They’ll put the pieces together. I love you, Jay, and I knew what I was getting into before I agreed to move in with you, but you’re going too far. Just think about us Jay, what if they track us back here …”

“They won’t” Jason removes his hand from the door knob and gently cups your face, “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so damn much, but I need to do this. I can keep drug dealers away from kids, make sure that women are safe on the streets, I can make a bigger difference than B ever did. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me?” You nod and Jason leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t wait up for me, it’s gonna be a long night”

You startle awake when a large, and dirty, hand clamps over your mouth. Kicking out you immediately try to bite the hand, and twist off the bed.

“Now, now, missy. Mr. Black Mask wants to have a meetin’ with you. He only said that you had to be alive, now unless you want to show up banged up and hurtin’, I suggest you come quietly”

“My boyfriend’s gonna kill you”

“Your boyfriend is precisely the reason you’re havin’ this meetin’”

“And if I refuse to go?”

“Then we’ll have to knock you out, and” his eyes rake over your bare legs, you’d only worn underwear and one of Jason’s shirts to bed, “who know what’ll happen then”

“Can I put on some pants and shoes first?”

“Yes”

Quickly making your way to the dresser you pull on a pair of pants, and slip a tracking device in your shoe. “Okay, I’m ready”

As it turns out Black Mask has no real intention of talking to you. He just wants to use you to get to Red Hood.

“Hood! I know you can hear me, Hood. I also know that you’re down by the docks tonight, on the opposite side of town from where I am. Another thing I know … your girl looks so pretty when she cries”

There’s a pause, “I don’t have a girl, Mask. I’m a one man show who’s going to …”

Black Mask tisks, “You don’t have a girl you say? So, that means this pretty little thing who’s tied up and gagged in my office means nothing to you?”

“Mask …”

“Well, you heard him boys! There’s no need to keep her alive if she doesn’t mean anything to Hood.” Two men grab you, hauling you in front of their boss, who quietly pulls out a gun, “Goodbye, girly”

“Wait!! Wait don’t – don’t shoot her”

The safety clicks back on, “So she is your girl then?”

“Yes”

“Good, I’m glad we got that misunderstanding out of the way. Now I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do in order to keep your pretty little miss alive and unharmed.”

“So that’s how you think this is going to go? You’re just going to give me an order and expect me to follow it? Not even Batman has managed to make that happen”

Black Mask bares his teeth, “What part of ‘I’ll kill your girl’ did you not understand?”

Jason’s chuckle echoes thought the loudspeaker, “Well, I think you’re bluffing. What leverage will you have left if you kill Y/N? None! You won’t have anything to bribe me with, all you’ll have is a body and seriously pissed off guy. You need me, Mask. You wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of keeping Y/N alive if you didn’t need me to do something”

“Are you saying we’re at a stalemate, Hood?”

“Sounds like it”

The next thing you know, a knife is being plunged into your stomach, “Because you see, Red Hood, you’re right. If I kill Y/N here, then you have no reason to do as I ask, but there are other ways to get what I want.” One of his hands cup under your chin, “She really is a pretty little thing, and I have quite a few men who would love to try her out.”

“You wouldn’t”

“Oh, I would! These men are extremely loyal to me, and if you don’t do as I ask I’ll give her to them. It also seems like your girl has been stabbed, and without medical treatment her death will be very slow, and very painful.”

“You son of a bitch!!”

“Easy now, Hood. We wouldn’t want to add a gunshot to her list of injuries, would we?”

Jason is silent for a moment, “You’re going to pay for this, Mask.” There’s the sound of breaking windows and several people shouting all at once, “Did it ever occur to you that I was just biding my time? Did you really think Y/N was stupid? She had a tracker on her the entire time, and now you’re going to pay for hurting her”

You smirk up at Black Mask, using your tongue to push at the gag, “You’re fucked, asshole”

Black mask snarls and points his gun at your head, “You bitch …”

A dagger flies from behind you, knocking the gun away and sinking into Mask’s hand, “Did you think we would not find her? You may have lured Red Hood to the docks, but you did not plan for anyone else to come to Y/N’s rescue”

Now that you’re surrounded by several vigilantes, you allow yourself to feel the pain that you’ve managed to block out. “Batman …”

There’s a soft swish of a cape and Batman is crouching next to you, gently taking the gag the rest of the way out of your mouth, “Are you alright?”

“Not really, he stabbed me but right now the knife is stopping a lot of the blood loss, and I was kicked around a bit. Definitely need medical treatment”

“Yes, you do. Robin, tie up Black Mask. We’ll leave him for the police to deal with”

“Very well, father. Y/N … will you be alright?”

You flash a brief smile, which you have a feeling looks more like a grimace. “I’ll be alright, Babybat.”

Bruce quickly gets to work and starts untying your arms, his voice is soft, pitched low so Damian doesn’t hear him, “You can stop pretending you’re okay, because I know you’re not.”

“I’ll be fine until we get to the hospital, I can’t … I don’t want to let Damian know how hurt I am”

“Can you walk?”

“No, my leg’s broken and I was stabbed. Just – just help me up”

“I’ll carry you”

“… Fine, I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to stand”

Bruce rolls his eyes, quickly lifting you in a bridal carry, “And yet you were going to try. You are more like your partner than you realize, Y/N”

You let out a strained chuckle, gripping Bruce’s shoulder tightly, “I’m gonna take that as a complement. Is Hood gonna meet us at the Cave?”

“Yes, he’s on his way there now.”

“Good”

“Y/N!!”

You wave weakly, blood loss starting to take its toll, “Hey, babe”

“Damnit, Y/N, you would get kidnapped and almost killed by the Black Mask” Jason carefully takes you from Bruce’s arms and places you on the steel surgical table. “B said that you have a broken left leg, a stab wound in your lower abdomen, and various lacerations from being beaten”

“Yeah that about covers it”

“We’re gonna patch you, sweetheart. Here, take these” Jason hands you a couple of pills, “these will knock you out, and when you wake up we’ll have set your leg, and stitched you up”

“And you’ll be here?”

Jason leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else”

Everything is groggy when you start to wake up. You’ve been moved to a more comfortable bed, your casted leg is propped up on some pillows, and bandaged cover most of your other injuries. Bruce and Jason are the only two voices you hear in the room.

“You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

Bruce sighs, it’s obviously not the first time he’s heard Jason say that, “I’m well aware that Y/N was hurt because of you, but what did you think would happen? She’s dating a vigilante, one who controls most of the drug trade that runs through all of Gotham. She knew the risks when she started dating you”

“He threatened to let his guys have their way with her. They could have raped her, beaten her more, anything. He did this to get back at me, Bruce. How can I continue seeing her if this is the kind of danger I’m putting her in?”

“I think you’re just afraid to be happy”

Jason pauses, “What?”

“You seem to forget that Y/N chose to be with you. She was the one to weigh the pros and cons of dating a vigilante, and she decided that you were worth it” You crack one eye open to see Bruce place a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder, “You love her, Jay. I know you do. You can’t just give up your chance at happiness”

“I was so close to losing her tonight, B” Jason’s voice wobbles, like he’s fighting back tears.

“You can’t let fear rule your life, Jason. You need to hold onto your happiness, hold onto her, for as long as you can. I know that we don’t have the best relationship, that you are still angry with me, but just … just don’t let her go so easily. In the world we live in, leading the lives that we do, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. Treasure her while you have her, Jay”

“I just love her so much, Bruce. I hate seeing her hurt”

Clearing your throat softly, you extend one hand toward Jason who immediately takes it. “I love you too, Jay”

“How are you feeling, baby?”

“I’m fine, still feel kinda hazy and numb.”

“Good, do you want any water or anything?”

“No, I’m fine right now. I – I might end up falling asleep again”

The hand not holding yours slowly runs through your hair, “Good, you need a lot of sleep to heal properly”

Your eyes are getting heavier the longer you’re awake, “Just one thing to say before I sleep”

“Go ahead”

Throwing out a smirk, you tighten your grip on Jason’s hand, “If you break up with me just because Black Mask kidnapped me I’ll … I’ll hide your stupid helmet from you, then you’ll just be the Red Mask Guy”

Once again Jason presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry, baby, I have no intention of letting you go.”

“Good, you better not”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #black mask imagine #hurt reader #hurt/comfort #batman imagine #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #Damian Wayne #damian wyne imagine #batfamily #BatFam

591 notes · View notes

cat-the-dragon · 7 years

Text

This Last Thing I Could Do For You

I guess most of my followers already read Even Now We Feel The Shape Of Your Absence, that I’d posted partly because of @camsthisky, and partly because of the @nanowrimo.

This time, I’m blaming @chibinightowl for inspiring me to write this prequel (still meant to be read after the other one), both her and @comicroute beta-ed for me, so thanks to them

Read on Ao3

-The opening of the Will is scheduled at 19:00 this Monday in the Batcave.-

Jason stared at the message. The Will. Whose will? In the Batcave, a will was being read.

It had been sent by Barbie's Oracle number, so the probability of a prank was in negative percentages.

One of the Bats had died, and Jason hadn't been told. He’s always the last one to hear about these things.

Oh, god, what if it was Alfred?

Hands just barely not trembling, Jason typed his reply. -Who died- No question mark, somehow, it seemed more disrespectful than sending a message without proper punctuation.

-Red Robin- Came back ten seconds later.

Jason stared at the two words. He'd expected relief if it wasn't Alfred, but learning it was the kid he still held a grudge against without a proper reason was actually worse.

Jason arrived at the Cave at 7 pm sharp on Monday. He was there for the Will, not to socialize.

He'd had the time to look up what had happened.

It had been surprisingly easy.

Red Robin Death and Red Robin Suicide were all over the internet. There was a shaky cell-phone video of the hero hurling to the ground and going splat that had gone viral enough that even the Bats couldn't seem to get rid of it, and then dozen of witness declarations on diverse discussion boards.

The report he'd hacked on the Batcomputer said that Red Robin's gear had been in perfect working order, he didn't seem to have suffered any head injury before the fall, and his blood tox screening came back perfectly clear.

So.

Suicide.

Somehow Jason felt bad.

He wondered if he'd had anything to do with Repla- Tim's decision.

Dickster had told him, "Tim was your greatest fan. I saw him talking to your Memorial Case in the cave, Jay."

He wondered. Would things be different if he'd actually apologized for beating the kid up on top of Titan’s Tower and shooting him that time?

Jason knew how much having a role-model betray you hurt, and he'd been the one who did that to Tim, hadn't he? Would he have gone suicidal if Bruce systematically went after him with the intention to cause maximum harm instead of just reactively hurting him?

Who was he kidding, Jason was already a bit opportunistically suicidal even with just the status-quo at hand.

He didn't have the time to dwell more, because the big screen flickered with a video as soon as Bruce saw him arrive. (He was the last one, good.)

"Hey," the costumed and masked Red Robin on the screen started. "Seeing the probability of me dying, on or off the field, I figured I should make a vigilante version of my will. That way I can get into the type of questions that definitely couldn't be stated or explained on the civilian one that I left with the lawyer."

The Tim on the screen (not the one resting under a sheet in a refrigerated dome in the medbay that Jason had only glimpsed so far) turned a bit more somber. "I gave this video to Oracle. I figured a video would be the easier to confirm as genuine and not forced. The instructions were to get everyone possible to open it, but do it within two days at most, even if some were missing. That way you have a forewarning of my preferences before you start sorting my civilian death."

"Good bye everyone. B, if you are watching this alone because you couldn't wait for the others, or got nosy and I'm still alive while you see this, I'm very disappointed in you, close this video immediately!" Red Robin made a stern frowny face, and despite the solemn atmosphere in the cave, a ripple of amusement ran through the assembled heroes.

Jason for his part stomped down on his matching laugh to shoot Bruce a suspicious look. Did he tense? Had he actually tried it?

"So, I guess first off are my cases... I pre-made an override command in all my digital systems that will transfer everything to my old Robin session in the Batcomputer. I tend to use informatics a lot, so there should be everything you need on it to finish whatever I am doing at the moment of my death. It might be time sensitive, so I hid the transfer key in the Batcave, you'll find it under the detachable R emblem of my first Robin design in the display cave. It's a microchip, you might need a couple of minutes to find it, then connect under my old session and launch the program that pops up, it'll do everything on it's own. DO NOT fiddle with the code or launch it from anything but my old session on the Batcomputer, it'll destroy all my data. That's a very safeguarded override."

"Even then, some things are password protected. I put the list of encrypted passwords and corresponding files under the passenger side floor-mat of the Batmobile. Red Hood's Batmobile." Probably the one he boosted the tires from what feels like a lifetime ago. Good concealment of information in case an enemy got the Will on Tim's part, that.

"The encryption key is written on a post it note in Nightwing's favorite book from when he was still wearing the disco suit." Jason shot a look at Dick, who had a pensive expression on, trying to remember, surely.

"Legacy comes next, I guess? Red Robin was Hood's so if he wants to take it back now that I'm dead he can, I'd rather you didn't give it to D-Robin or any youngster after me, though. It’s not been around long enough to absolutely need to get passed down, and frankly, if I die in it, it would be a pretty unlucky omen for the next one.”

And that doused the little bit of levity that seeing a sassy Red Robin had introduced. Jason couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the sheet covered exam table.

Talk about unlucky.

One thing was sure, Jason would not be donning Red Robin again, thank you.

“The map of all my personal safe houses should be in the download with my cases, feel free to help yourselves to them or my gear. I mean all of you, no one gets to claim everything for themselves without asking the others if they want it.”

“Now my other Will also says this, but I wish to be cremated. And if possible not have all the ashes at the same place. I know it is tempting to forego it and wish for another miraculous resurrection like for J. But considering the interest Ra’s has been paying me, I really, really prefer not to run any risk of him ever getting his hands on my corpse.”

Tim looked at the camera fixedly. “I know what you’re thinking, B. You’re thinking you could protect my grave. Don’t. You’re not immortal, Ra’s is. What about fifty years from now? Will you still be able to protect my grave then? I prefer not to run the risk, so please respect my wishes on this.”

Bruce got up abruptly and stormed off.

Jason shot a venomous glare at his back.

He couldn’t even handle that? Tim had definitely been low balling that one because Bruce’s ability to protect graves? BULLSHIT. He hadn’t even noticed him vacating his.

Tim spoke for a couple more minutes. Minor things about who could have what, and his wish not to get a memorial case in the Batcave, and what to give to the Titans. There were instructions about keeping an eye on his teammates, especially Superboy, right after his death. He offset that by saying he made a will for the Titans too and that they would know what he wanted them to do after he died.

There weren’t person by person messages for the Bats, Tim apparently treated them as a single entity, or he’d made a series of personal messages independently from the general one.

Jason wasn’t paying much attention by the time the screen went black, because his mind had gotten stuck on Tim’s demand for a cremation. He understood that all too well. And more importantly, Bruce’s reaction to it.

Was he getting paranoid?

This suspicion, that Bruce storming off might be because he wanted to falsify the civilian will, stuck with him though.

Would Bruce be that much of an asshole?

What a question.

Yes, yes he would. When Bruce thought he knew best, he steamrolled everyone to force his version of ‘the best thing to do’, disregarding everyone’s logical reasons or emotions. Jason actually wondered if he was even aware people other than him routinely had feelings.

He looked around himself at the other Bats in the cave. Bruce wasn’t hiding anywhere he could see, but everyone else lingered, making clusters, crying, or noticeably being in the process of not-crying.

Damian was standing stock still, staring at the screen vacantly, obviously still deep in shock or denial.

Everyone else was mixed bags. They had seen death so often that they skipped entire stages of grief all the time, though for that one, Jason did foresee everyone getting bogged down on guilt floor for ages. He knew he would.

Suicides had the tendency to do that to surviving families after all.

Resigned to the idea of having to be the bad guy, Jason stalked past Blondie crying in the arm of a very stiff Cassandra and stopped in front of Barbara.

She extracted her blotchy face from Dick’s abs and sniffed. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

“Where is B?”

Dick snarled, jumping over the wheelchair to put himself between Barbara and Jason. “Now is not the time to be petty. Tim is dead! He... He’s dead, he’s not coming back, he’s dead!”

So he was the bad guy. He was okay with it but as the one who’d gotten royally fucked by a Lazarus Pit, he’d given himself the mission to ensure Red Robin was burned the way he asked to. Being the good guy or the bad guy was not important. Keeping Bruce from disrespecting his third Robin’s wishes was.

So he said the bad guy’s thing. “Yes, he’s dead. And he wanted to stay that way and not become a Lazarus puppet like me, so I really hope I am wrong in my suspicions, but I need to know where Bruce is to be sure of that.”

Barbara stared at him around Dick, wide eyed. “He wouldn’t.”

“Right. And he wouldn’t label my memorial with ‘a good soldier’ either, then?” Jason spat back.

“This isn’t about you!” Dick yelled.

“No, it isn’t!” Jason bellowed back, agry to be accused of making Red Robin’s death about him. “It’s about Tim wanting to be cremated and Bruce going missing after the unofficial Will stated part of the content of the official one that’s with a lawyer. A part Bruce doesn’t like. How well can a law office hold up to the Batman?”

“How dare you suggest… You hateful!” Dick was losing steam. And the whole cave was deathly silent except for the unhappy rustle of disturbed bats on the ceiling. Everyone was staring at them. “...Spiteful… You!”

“Prove me wrong, then.” Jason gestured to the computer. “Tell me where Bruce is.”

Barbara blew out a loud breath. “I so hope you are wrong.” She wheeled herself to the console, letting Dick try to protect empty air.

“So do I.” Jason stood tall, arms crossed next to Barbara as she chillingly narrated her finds. No missing cars or bikes. Jason pointed that Bruce had gone up the stairs in his Batman costume. She gritted her teeth and looked for him on the video surveillance.

Dick was staring at him like he was a monster. And frankly, he would give his right hand to be wrong, but someone had to doubt the Bat, and if no one else would, Jason would be that person. He infinitely prefered being wrong and looking like the a heartless monster at Tim’s will reading, than be right but not speaking up and seeing Bruce prove himself to be the inconsiderate asshole once more.

“No,” Barbara whispered. “No.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. The pinpoint that represented Bruce was heading straight for Gotham. Which wasn’t that bad per-se. Maybe he was planning to beat some poor schmucks up to make himself feel better, but as far as disproving his fears went, it wasn’t great. (The fact that he had gone out in full Batman from the Manor’s entrance and apparently decided to go by foot wasn’t saying great things about his state of mind either.)

He stood still and silent, watching Bruce move on the map. Waves of murmurs floated around as some of the Bats left for their patrol and others watched along with Dick, Barbara and Jason.

When Bruce made it to the block of Tim’s lawyer, Jason decided to fuck the benefit of the doubt and stop dawdling.

His plan was already forming as he turned away from the computer screen and jogged up the cave’s stairs.

First, he went to the garage.

Slashing every single tire might have been a little overdone, but Bruce was filthy rich, he’d get over it.

Second were the supplies.

He didn’t have a precise idea of exactly what would be needed, but he figured he could always buy what he needed as he went. The most important tools for the first phase was cooling stuff.

He pilfered a big comforter from a guest room and filled it with as many ice cube packs as he could find in the upstairs freezer, then he trudged back down the cave’s stairs with his loot.

Barbara, Alfred and Damian were the only ones still in the cave when Jason came back down. He figured Dick must have led the few stragglers on a mission to go talk some sense into the big dumb Bat.

Jason didn’t like to put his trust in that. If he wanted stuff done, he might as well do it himself.

The trio stared at him and his comforter bag. He ignored them.

He did the same with all the cooling packs in the medbay freezer as he had upstairs.

He also pilfered half the emergency liquid Batfunds from their hiding place.

Third was the Batgarage.

He almost expected to be stopped, to have to fight his way through, but instead he was met with watchful silence when he stalked to one of the Batmobiles, opened the trunk, collapsed the back seats and spread his catch on the floor.

Then Jason methodically moved on the hangar for the fliers and plastic-ed up every single landing gear. Barbara put a hand on Damian’s shoulder and asked him to push her to the elevator because she wanted a snack.

Damian must have been pretty out of it not to see through the transparent excuse. Or maybe he was experiencing disconnect. He blinked at the systematic destruction Jason was wreaking upon their vehicles, then at Barbie, and obeyed without a word.

The Bat-tires were all a lot sturdier than the civilian ones, so slashing wouldn’t work that well.

Instead, with a lingering look at Alfred to see if he’d try to stop that much, Jason took out the Bat-impact-wrench and went to work removing every single wheel and kicking them over the edge of the precipice into the man-made lake Batman kept his marine float in.

Once only his chosen Batmobile was standing on all its wheels, he went for part four.

Fourth was Tim.

He strolled up to Tim’s body, opened the refrigerating dome, and lifted the sheet covered lifeless body up in his arms. He noticed Alfred bustling around. Still, he didn’t move to stop him when he went back to the trunk and deposited Tim in it.

Considering how the body had been kept very cool since his death (probably to make it easier to disguise his civilian death to a later date) rigor mortis had barely set in and it was fairly easy to maneuver him into lying on his side so he would fit inside the limited space.

Jason folded the blanket back up over Tim and closed the trunk. This was when he noticed Alfred in much more practical clothes than he ever thought he’d see the old man in, holding a backpack and opening the passenger door.

He stared at the old man, but when he was only met with a very flat stare, he shrugged, climbed into the driver seat and drove off. It was nice to see someone else understood about respecting final wishes and all that.

Fifth was distraction.

In the morning, once he estimated himself far enough from Gotham, Jason bought a replacement minivan with tinted windows at a shady second hand shop. Alfred helped him transfer the contents of the Batmobile, and then they left with their new vehicle.

Jason left the Batmobile in a well frequented parking lot with the keys taped to a side mirror for any daring youth to take it on a joyride whenever they found it. Alfred didn’t look thrilled by his choice, but didn’t protest either.

When Alfred asked him what he planned on doing, Jason started considering his options besides ‘steal the body and run’. Speaking the possibilities out loud helped him think them through too.

Breaking into a funeral house and commandeering the crematorium, although easier, would leave an obvious trail. If not on the security surveillance, at least in the fuel gauge. There was no way it wouldn’t be reported and investigated, and even if nothing came up from it, it would make Tim’s civilian death with a missing body much more suspicious than it needed to be.

Tim was so loyal to the Bats and their secret, that even the fleeting possibility that Jason might be too careless and accidentally harm his successor's cover made him sick to his stomach.

Alfred nodded at Jason’s exposed doubts. “Well,” he mused. “I guess humans have been building funeral pyres since the Roman empire, and they didn’t have gasoline then. I suspect young master Tim would have appreciated such a send-off.”

Jason swallowed. “Would he?” he asked, suddenly desperate to learn more about the person he’d just gone against Batman to cremate.

Alfred smiled sadly. “Yes, I believe so. He forced Master Bruce to watch the original Star Wars trilogy once.” Jason smiled, wondering how he’d even managed that feat, but didn’t ask, not wanting to interrupt the tale. “Master Tim was so emotional at the funeral for Anakin Skywalker. I could see the awkwardness radiating out of Master Bruce. It was clear he didn’t quite know what to do.”

In the following day of driving, they had to make a few pit stops to buy more ice-cubes and dump the old ones so the body they were transporting didn’t start to warm up and putrefy.

Jason guessed the result would be the same either way, but he really prefered to be able to give Tim as much dignity in his funeral as he could. And as far as he was concerned, it included not letting him start to smell like a pile of garbage.

They picked a deserted beach at the foot of a ragged cliff, hoping the relief would hide their fire from the watchful eyes of fire departments, and waited for the evening to start moving their newly bought supplies and Tim.

There was quite a bit of wood, charcoal, and acetone bottles to move over a pretty long way, but Jason was strong and had quite a bit of endurance, so he took care of it while Alfred built the pyre.

When all the supplies were moved, and once the night was well fallen, Jason finally brought Tim. He was still fairly cold, and didn’t actually smell.

Feeling like this had all gotten much more real, Jason carefully wrapped Tim in the comforter, letting a tuft of hair poke out to make the human shape look more like a voluntary blanket burrito than a carpet wrapped corpse.

He reviewed his excuse: Yes, my brother fell asleep during the car ride. He never sleeps so I didn’t feel like waking him. I couldn’t let him in the car though. It’s okay, he barely weighs anything.

Jason didn’t see anyone, but the cover story had already started to make him shift his way of seeing things. Brothers…He shook himself off and hurried over to Alfred.

Now that Tim was out, they had to make haste. Getting caught with a corpse was absolutely not desirable.

“I know it’s stupidly romantic, but I can’t help thinking we should burn him with his weapon,” Jason said, sighing while dousing the comforter in acetone. (They should probably douse Tim too, but that was something neither of them could bring themselves to do, pouring acetone on a family member.)

Alfred smiled faintly and opened his backpack to pull a small cylinder out. Jason reached for it and unfolded it.

They quickly put Tim in position on top of the fire accelerant doused pyre. (Jason spared a moment to be thankful Tim had already been cut out of his fire retardant nomex uniform and dressed in cotton civilian clothes. He didn’t voice it, though, because he was fairly sure Alfred had been the one to do it and it must have been incredibly harrowing for him.)

Alfred took out a camcorder and a tripod and started recording the funeral pyre. It wasn’t meant as an archive, too risky, but as an inclusion, so the rest of the family would be able to see it at least once if they chose to.

Jason stared at Tim’s too pale dead face.

He had been suppressing his knowledge that Tim’s ‘body’ was actually Tim’s corpse. He’d been compartmentalising, and he knew it, thinking like Tim was in some sort of coma instead of dead. Even when he’d been browsing the barbecue section of the mall for the pyre’s material, he’d still been treating it like he was doing Tim a simple favor, rather than organizing a funeral.

Because he needed to be functional, because he couldn’t break down.

At last, Alfred and Jason folded the acetone doused comforter over Tim’s body and threw ropes over the pyre to anchor it down. (Apparently, Roman pyres sometimes ejected the person placed on top of it because of the abrupt heat, and they prefered to avoid this risk.)

Finally, they lit a couple of torches and touched them to the pile, lighting it up.

The pyre went up in flame with a wroof.

Jason retreated out of the camera’s recording field and huddled down.

That was it.

No more Tim.

Alfred, bless him, noticed his somber mood and gently rubbed his back as they watched the initial acetone fueled fury recede down to a more reasonable wood and coal fueled one.

“You should cry,” Jason rumbled.

“So should you, young man,” Alfred hummed back.

“Somehow I can’t,” he admitted, staring at the brazier. “But the kid deserves to have someone cry at his funeral. You knew him, you should do it.”

Jason felt numb. The heat of the fire was drying his lips and stinging his cheeks and forehead, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, let alone move away. Not with the burnt flesh smell and occasional explosion as the heat started to pulverise bones.

Even as tears started sliding down Alfred’s weathered old cheeks, the disconnect wouldn’t go.

He was still thinking about what if someone came. What if the fire department came by and noticed they were illegally getting rid of a body.

Thankfully, no one came by for the four hours it took for the fire to burn itself down to embers.

Somehow, Alfred had fallen asleep in the sand, dried tear tracks marring his face. It had been a very long 36 hours, after all, and Jason had no idea how long the man had been awake before he came in the cave to hear Tim’s will.

Jason didn’t wake him and raked the coals closer together with a long branch, looking out for any long bone or unburnt flesh that would need to be pushed closer to the embers.

There were some bone fragments, but thankfully no flesh, and once Jason had managed to push everything closer together, he took the last bottle of fire accelerant, poured it in a long handled steel pan and carefully dumped it on, then jumped out of the way of the new tongue of fire.

One hour later, Alfred still fast asleep, he carefully scooped the top layer of ashes into the big glass jar they had bought for them.

Once it got impossible to catch the ashes without taking sand with it, Jason took out the garbage bags and started scooping all the mixed sand and ashes he could into them.

Only then did he shake Alfred awake.

They silently took everything back to the van, drove a few miles to a wild looking patch of forest and buried the ashy sand.

“So. What now?” Alfred asked, looking at the Jar.

“Now,” Jason said with a sigh, “I drop you off at a train station so you can go back home to Gotham, and I get to burying these ashes in different locations.”

Alfred smiled sadly. “It’s probably for the best. It’ll give you boys the opportunity to spend some time together. Take him somewhere nice, hear me? I always thought the boy needed to go on vacations more.”

Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Promise. Only the best places for little Red.”

Alfred looked equally choked up.

They climbed back in the van.

“Take care, young Master Jason,” Alfred whispered along with a rare hug in the deserted train station. “No matter the circumstances, it was good seeing you again.” Then he looked down at the Jar. “I’m counting on you to keep that one out of trouble, young man.”

And… Here were the tears again, Jason shuffled awkwardly while Alfred dabbed at his eyes.

He ran away as soon as the train came in the station, rather than stay for a last tearful goodbye.

“Well,” Jason told the Jar when he turned the key in the ignition. “Ready for a last adventure, Timbo?”

There wasn’t, Jason thought as he sieved the ashes into a mixing bowl to catch the chunky bits of charred bone, anything that could drive the reality of someone’s death in more deeply than having to crush their bones to a dust using seemingly innocent kitchen ustensils...

It took him a couple of hours to get the bones into fine enough a powder as to be totally inconspicuous in the granite mortar he’d bought especially for this purpose. He was so glad he’d managed to hide the chunks from Alfred, it wasn’t something he wanted the old butler to even have to think about.

“So? Do you like it here?” Jason asked Tim’s Jar.

He was aware that Tim was dead and talking to his ashes looked an awful lot like madness, but to be fair, next to the Pit madness, any other form of it was an improvement.

“I like it. It’s nice. I think you’ll be happy here.” With a small smile, Jason reached for his shovel and started digging.

Once the hole was a couple of feet deep, Jason knelt by it and dumped a handful of ashes in.

Well, ashes and some sand. Most air travel companies didn’t let funeral urns travel in the passenger cabin. Jason had used colorful sands to make Tim’s Jar look more like a souvenir decorative sand bocal than a jar of human ashes. He was sure Tim didn’t mind going undercover, he’d been trained to it, after all.

When he was done shovelling soil back in the hole, Jason sprawled next to it, basking in the beauty of the spot he’d chosen to be yet another of Tim’s graves.

“So, where to next?” he asked his deceased brother. When, predictably, no answer came, he smiled. “I think you’d like Tibet. Let’s go to Tibet. Maybe I can find somewhere you like in the Himalayas.”

Jason stared at the hole. The last one he’d have to dig after what seemed like a hundred of them (it really wasn’t though).

The scenery was pretty perfect, blue sky over a lush green mountain, not too high, and still pretty wild. It went well with the rest of his string of small graves.

With a grimace, he tipped the small glass bocal (he’d switched the Jar out for smaller containers as he went) over the hole.

A part of him was saying to only dump half of the ashes down, to keep going for a bit more.

Finally, tears welled up.

He knew he hadn’t actually needed to divide the ashes half as much as he had. It had been an excuse, to be able to hold onto his little brother for a bit more time. Not that he’d ever been much of a brother to him, except for this one last time when it mattered most.

The same part of him asked again if they did have to bury all the ashes. He could keep an ounce of them after all, keep a bit of it, for memory.

Jason shook the bocal to dislodge the last of the dusts in it and scooped a handful of soil over the ashes immediately afterward before he could lose his nerve.

It was time he said goodbye.

It was time to let Tim go.

Jason finally started to sob, crying over the too young hero. Over the little brother he never actually managed to bond with. Over the Robin, dead, just like him, and the fact that it was what it had taken for Jason to finally pay attention to him.

He cried, long and hard.

Then he took his shovel and filled this last hole back up.

“Wherever you are now, I hope you are more happy than you were when you left us,” he murmured. “I can’t remember being dead, so I can only hope.”

He looked around. “This has been fun, kinda. I hope you liked our little adventure as much as I did. I just. I. I’m just sad and sorry we couldn’t do that while you were alive.”

He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “Farewell, Tim.”

Breathing deeply, he placed the bocal next to the upturned soil and stepped back, taking his cellphone out. He walked far enough away that he could get the mini-grave in the camera’s frame along with a good chunk of the scenery.

He hadn’t documented any other locations, but seeing the quantity of different places he’d scattered Tim’s ashes across, just one picture wouldn’t hurt too much.

-Coming back to Gotham now- He included with the picture to Alfred.

It was, after all, time to move on. Jason definitely should try and talk to Damian so he didn’t have to mourn another stranger of a little brother ever again. (The thought hit him suddenly, that it was exactly what Dick had said to explain his much more developed relationship to Tim as it had been to him.)

His phone chimed with a reply.

-I am looking forward to your return-

#character death #cremation #relativelly graphic depiction of a cremation #funeral #pyre #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #I made both my betas and myself cry so be warned

12 notes · View notes

ladysdork · 7 years

Text

Some Days It All Comes Crashing Down

“Jay? Fuck, Jay?” Dick’s fingers run along his neck, searching for the clasp on his helmet. “Shit, he’s hyperventilating.”

Jason doesn’t like being stuck underground. Luckily, he has a very patient knowledgeable boyfriend to lay on the ground with him. Tim can be comforting.

“Hood, report,” the deep gravel of Batman’s voice rumbles in his ear and Jason frowns, lips pursing slightly. The ancient subway system is completely clear at their end - it’s just some rusted tracks, graffitied tile, and squeaking rats. Nightwing is making shadow puppets with the flashlight as he searches, the two blue fingers twisting into snouts and mouths. They’ve been at it for two hours and the only suspicious thing they found was a box of old honeybuns stamped four years ago that still looked fully eatable. He had dared Dick to try one, but then Bruce immediately banned them over the comm before Dick had gotten past tearing open the wrapper.

“Nothing here, just Wing’s circus animal light show,” he could hear Bab’s snort muffled by her hand but still there through the line. “Yeah, you picked him, O. That’s on you.”

“Not to be a bummer,” Steph’s voice came through. “But those three stooges you were lookin’ for? But we’ve got em all tied up with a pretty pretty bow on top over here. So if the Batmobile could come pick them up we can all get back to being above fuckin’ ground.”

“Location?” Batman responds.

“Right under that Chinese place Red Robin likes,” Steph answers breasily.

“Ugh, eggrolls,” Tim’s voice practically moans over the line and Jason has to consciously not choke a reply. He figures that a couple months into dating he should be used to the pornographic sounds his boyfriend makes over various types of food. “Can we get lo mein for dinner? I’m ordering for us once I have some kind of cell coverage.”

“Are you ready to rendezvous?” Damian’s crisp tone cut past Dick’s echoing laughter through both the comm and the air around Jason. “Meet at the center?”

“Can do,” Steph chirped. “Red Robin and Spoiler en-route.”

“You know that’s not real French,” Tim starts at the same time Damian announces he and Cass’s agreement.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dick starts, and Jason already knows he’s going to hate the next words out of his mouth just by the tone. “But, um, my normal map tracker got zinged by a bullet a week ago and I haven’t had the time to fix it so I don’t really know how to get there can someone-”

Jason knows, he can hear in the distance, Dick is continuing to talk even when Damian cuts in. But all he can hear is the sudden whoosh of veins dilating and a pounding heart pushing a wall of blood past his ears. All he can feel is the numbness creeping up his fingers and the constricting python around his chest as his brain re-starts at ‘stuck underground in Gotham’. He’s already been here. He’s waited for people and they didn’t show up and that’s how he woke up in a suffocating coffin with no air underground and had to claw his way out with bloody fingers and his nails never grew back right or his ribs or-

“Jay? Fuck, Jay?” Dick’s fingers run along his neck, searching for the clasp on his helmet. “Shit, he’s hyperventilating.”

Jason knows someone else responds, sounds like Tim’s angry voice, but he’s jerked away from the fingers reaching around his neck, trying to suffocate him or pull him out and back to life and either way it isn’t good, and he trips, falls back and lands hard on his spine. The pain radiates for a second, bringing enough clarity and awareness to his limbs that Jason pulls them all in, ducks his head into his hands, and stays.

No one can reach him. Hands can’t pry him open, apart, vulnerable to attack or misguided affection. He is strong enough for that, knows where to hold onto his neck and tuck his elbows in. Kicks won’t reach anything too important - kidney’s might get hit but usually he just throws up, no wait, he’s got kevlar, and bones might break, no wait, he’s got kevlar, but the pressure of curling up is keeping his chest even tighter and he can’t breath fast enough because something is over his face-

He isn’t sure how long he stays curled up - a panicked tone floating around him - before he hears a good voice. A safe voice.

“Jay, it’s me,” Tim. “It’s Tim. I’m sitting right in front of you. I’ve got you covered, okay?”

He can’t nod back, can’t open his mouth to speak because something is still on his face so he can’t get enough air and it’s all muggy and warm, so he taps with fingers-

“Okay, I understand. Jason, you’re okay, it’s your helmet. I’m going to remove it though,” he feels fingers press softly against his shoulders, two sets sliding up steadily until they push on something and his head is pulled free. Light blooms beyond his eyelids, and he tries to open them but it’s too much. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You can keep your eyes shut, I’ve got you, Tim’s got you. We are sitting on the ground, and I’m here. Your helmet is off, but it’s near by. Just off until you can breathe enough to put it back on, okay?”

He nods. He can do that. Breathing is such a simple task and if he can’t do that he deserves to stay dead.

“I’m lying down with you, okay,” he hears the grit and dirt move and then feels air ghost across his face. “Okay, Jason, can you give me one hand? So I can breathe with you?”

He shakes his head. He can’t. He needs that hand.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’m going to count them out, but when you think you can, if you can, just reach out. My fingers are still on your arm, so just follow up me okay?”

Yeah, yeah, he can do that. He’s dead but apparently he can do that. So when he feels Tim’s fingers trace up to his shoulder, rest against his bicep, he nods.

“Good. Okay. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three. In…”

He concentrates on the warmth of Tim’s hand. His palm is pressed against him, more pressure than warmth through the leather jacket. But he knows how warm Tim is. Which is to say not at all, usually. But he wants to feel it, so he wiggles his fingers. Just a little. Just so the tips press against his chin and he can feel the stubble - it’s been a long week of papers - and that makes it easier to move his arm. So he works on extending it, feels Tim’s fingers move to rest against his side and press to his ribs as he settles his own big hand on Tim’s chest. He stops listening to Tim’s counting, just feels the rise and fall under his hand, against his hand, and does his best to copy.

“Good job, Jay,” Tim’s voice makes it past his brain that still says dig, claw, fight. “Good job. I’ve got you, you just keep breathing, okay? As long as you breathe, we are going to be just fine.”

That’s a fucking lie. Just over the weekend Tim woke up screaming because he had a very realistic nightmare that everyone died. It has happened to him before and it could happen again. Jason knows it. Tim knows it. But they both hope to God it won’t. But expecting fine in their like ignoring the bomb in the warehouse. But living like death is right around the corner is impossible, exhausting, too much. So until then, he’s going to live the rest of his days cleaning up coffee mugs and waking up to Tim talking in his sleep. He’s going to live.

He can do this.

For Tim. For himself. For them.

He opens his eyes, just little slivers in case it’s still blinding like it was before, but Tim’s blocked most of the light and all he can see is blue. The same light blue he wakes up and falls asleep to. The same blue he kisses and sometimes has to pry away from computer screens even under death-glare and bo-staff. Which is no joke coming from his boyfriend, Jason's seen what happens when he levels that weapon at others, but tea, cuddles, and smores poptarts - eugh - make an excellent bribe. Tim shifts slowly, fingers curling around to pull them closer as he tips his head and presses their foreheads together. Tim is warm, solid, steady. There and patient just like always. The familiar swirl of Tim cologne, coffee, and sweat slowly permeats his head, wrapping him in a Tim- sized bubble and grounds him back to this safe moment.

Jason isn’t totally sure how long he’s been on the ground. But he guesses ten minutes. Which is plenty enough time to spend on an old subway track. So, he copies Tim’s breathing some more, makes sure he’s doing it right, before pressing harder against Tim’s head.

“Help me up?”

“Of course,” it takes another minute of helping muscles unlock and joints creak but then he’s standing, Tim staring up at him with that soft worried smile. His eyes are all crinkly at the edges. “Do you think you are okay to walk?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Jason swallows and clumsily tangles their hands together. “But-”

“I’ve got you,” Tim fixes the order of their fingers so it feels right, squeezes gently. “Dick went to go get the bike, but we can start walking. We aren’t far.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“I think you scared him. He was staring at us until I got on the floor with you. Then he said he didn’t want to be in the way,” Tim laughed slightly and Jason drank in the sound. “Even though he was standing a good several meters off.”

“Yeah well I think I did kind of shove him away and fall to the ground.”

“That would explain it,” Tim squeezes his hand again, gaze flicking back up to Jason instead of down at all the iron spikes and rocks and broken glass. “Need anything else?”

Jason takes a second, runs an assessment down his body. Feet are good, he can feel his boots crunch down on shifting soil every few steps. Legs are walking a little slow, feel a little shaky, but nothing he doesn’t experience on the regular. His chest is breathing. He feels a little nauseous, but that will fade into hunger by the time they get home. So he smiles slightly, knows it looks wrong but also knows Tim knows that, and squeezes back.

“I’m good. Alive and with you. So, good,” Tim’s stomach rumbles. “But I’m not cooking tonight so you should order in.”

39 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 5 years

Text

Put a ring on it 2

Gonna drop this here super quick and then go back to cram for my finals. Who allowed me to schedule six finals in one week? I’m gonna die. Pray for me.

Tagging @jedissica ‘cause they asked me to, and @animemangasoul who I think will like this.

---.---

-Batman, here we are. It’s been a while since you last called an emergency meeting. Is everything okay?

-Were you aware that our children eloped together?

-...what.

-As in, my third kid, your first one, Diana’s second, and Barry’s… grandchild. I’m not exactly sure about who married who, but there was more than one wedding and they have a group chat called ‘hubbies and waifu’. Whatever that means.

-...

-That’s my girl. I always told her, go big or go home.

-Diana, no.

----.----

Cassie’s phone went off again with her specific Diana ringtone, and she gave up, turning it off and throwing it on the pile with Kon’s, Bart’s and Tim’s (the last one had four all by himself, so it was quite a big ‘phone tower’; Hah, pun intended).

-You’re gonna freak out so badly over this when you actually wake up -she informed Tim’s fluffy hair.

Said vigilante only released a cute little snore, face buried on her lap, legs thrown over Kon’s, one hand that had fallen from the couch resting on Bart’s head where he sat on the floor in front of them.

-Well, they were going to find out one way or another. And this was probably among the best scenarios.

-How? I’m sure this one was top five on Tim’s ‘worst case’ nightmare list.

-I was there and saw their faces. I didn’t even know Batman could express any emotion other than ‘cold’ and ‘overflowing with rage’. That image will bring me joy in future distressing times, I’m sure. My patronus memory, if you will.

-I’m soooooooo jealous, dude.

Cassie snorted, carefully not moving an inch, fingers cradling through Tim’s hair. Over her dead body would he ever cut it, now that it was finally long enough to make itty tiny braids all over it, her favorite therapeutic iddle work.

-We’ll make Tim give us footage when he wakes up. He has to provide for us, after all.

Kon let his arm, resting on the backrest of the couch, fall over Cassie’s shoulders- Be sure to include footage from after we left, too. Nightwing’s ‘As in more than one?!’ part was solid gold.

-No kidding, I want that as my ringtone for you and Tim -chimed in Bart, carefully moving Tim’s hand back to the couch and then running to the kitchen- Ice cream?

-Do you even need to ask?

---.----

By the time Tim woke up, the hero gossip network had done it’s thing, and almost everyone with a costume was aware of the news. Even Cissie, who was officially retired, and Zachary Zatara, away on his shows and usually out of reach, had called, the first one to offer congratulations and ask if the thing was real emotionally-wise, the second to just laugh at them for full six minutes before hanging up.

He did text them later, asking when the celebration ceremony would be.

-It’s not a bad idea -mused Cassie, showing them her phone screen with the magician’s text- a party, I mean.

Tim, from his place working a case on the Titan’s main computer, tuted- Batman might actually kill me for that. I think we’ve survived this far only because there are no written records making this official, and a part of him must think it’s all some elaborate prank.

-It’s not -insisted Bart, head poking out of the kitchen- we are family now, officially. No take backs.

Their Robin shifted in place just enough for them to see his smile, a gift on itself- I know, guys, and the sentiment is much appreciated. But from a legal standpoint, it’s not that different from what a few kids on a playground could do while playing family. Only place this could stand against judgement would be the future, some ancient Amazonian tribe, or Krypton.

-Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s true for us. And, I mean, we didn’t want to cut your options if you ever wanted to actually get married the classic way.

This time, their bird actually turned around, a warmth on his expression that he usually reserved for his team. It made them feel special like nothing else.

-Yeah, I know. Thank you for that. It was really considerated.

As if they would drag Tim into something like legal marriage without previous consent. The fact that he even felt the need to thank them for showing him basic human decency was making their blood boil with the need to punch a bat on the face.

Kon flew over, the high chair preventing him from draping himself on his best friend’s back, but not from hugging his neck and messing his hair.

-Back at my point -cleared her throat the amazonian-, your former mentor can suck my metaphorical Freudian dick. We could throw a party, and it would only be different from a normal one because marriage celebrations include gifts, which I’m totally for. I haven’t seen Zatara, Cissie, Greta and Anita in a while, and Miguel, Raven and Gar might murder us for not telling them about our plans and not making it up to them with a party. No ‘adults’ out of the ones on team, or mentors, invited, enough alcohol to re-drown Atlantis, fancy food bought with Bat’s credit card…

-You are right, it does sound kinda nice -hummed Kon, floating just out of Tim’s range when former Wonder Boy tried to slap his hands away. Silly bat, always denying affection.

-All in favor?

-I don’t know -giving up, Tim went back to his case files- I have a lot to do this days, and there’s a lead that might take me to Asia…

-Isn’t Cass there? Ask her to take over it for you, as a marriage present or something. C’mon Tim, do it for the gifts. Imagine what Zatara might get for us. So crash.

-If it’s a magical object, I won't want it anywhere near me. We bats don’t have the best track record with that stuff, and I swear to god if I get deaged I would use my non-prosecutable age to murder someone. Probably Zatara himself.

-Adorable as that might be, it totally won’t happen.

----.----

-....can you repeat it one more time? Slower, though. I think I’m getting hearing problems.

Raven, through the video call connecting the Cave with the Tower, didn’t seem fazed by Nightwing’s slightly threatening tone.

-I said, the team had a party, everyone got drunk, and it was fine for a while. I was watching over them, but then I needed to use the restroom. When I got back, someone had gotten ahold of Zachary’s gift for Tim, Cassie, Kon and Bart, and…

-Why for those four? -asked Hood, standing right by N’s side. He had came in during Raven’s first explanation, and felt like there was something he was missing.

-It was a marriage gift. Moving on…

-A what?! Since when is Lil Red married? The fuck happened while I was in Russia?!

-...someone had gotten ahold of the gift -Raven kept going, cool as a cucumber. On the background behind her, teen heroes were running back and forth, people were screaming and something was smoking-, which happened to be some sort of magical artifact. Zachary wasn’t really aware of what it did, he just randomly choose it from among his collection of magical tools when he remembered at the last possible time a gift was mandatory for a wedding party. I returned from the bathroom and everything was a mess, the couch was turned upside down, a pipe had burst, the tv was on fire and Tim had been de aged.

There was a battle scream, in a distinctly childish voice, somewhere on the room out of view of the camera, and Raven’s eyes left the screen for a second as if looking at it.

-Was that Red Robin? -Batman, because of course he was listening in, started typing at the console, frantically trying to get a new angle to see what was going on on the Tower.

-He’s unharmed, and everything is under control.

Another scream, this time louder.

-...that didn’t sound under control -mused Dick, apparently still processing the information. Bruce typed faster. Robin gripped his sword tighter, as if readying himself for a war.

Jason still looked utterly lost.

-Marriage? She said marriage? AND YOU ASSHOLES KNEW ‘BOUT THIS?!

-He’s… throwing a tantrum -the woman ignored him, still looking only at her former leader-. Something about using his age to kill Zatara without being convicted. I’ll need to leave now, I only called to ask you to take over Tim’s cases while we solve this issue.

-Wait! Rae, if Timmy’s a kid, he needs to be with us. We are his family, it’s our jurisdiction.

A green bird suddenly landed on her shoulder, halthing whatever response she might give. Gar pecked her on the cheek lightly before turning his beak their direction.

-Husbands and Wives get priority, N, you know that. Cassie, Kon and Bart are looking after him, and keeping him from killing Zachary, while the rest of us research how to turn him back. Zach is actually trying to contact his cousin, maybe the great Zatanna will quicken this process. So, yeah, no Bats allowed on the Tower until then!

-But/!

A loud crash, followed by a wail, made Gar wince and Raven’s head to snap to the side and growl.

-Whelp, gotta go, Tower out! -a ‘Tim!’ could be heard in the background just before the screen went dark.

-...

-...Anyone gonna fill me in?

-Drake eloped thrice over without informing us and has been living in sinful unworthiness with his three partners since last month or so, that we know about. Probably more.

-...Partners?

-You heard her. The speedster, clone and amazonian.

-...

-Dickie, how t’fuck did ya allow’is to happen?!

-IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS ASKED FOR MY BLESSING, JASON!

-B, what the utter hell, ain’t ya supposed to keep track of this kinda shit?!?

-...

-Don’t bother, Father has been broken since learning of Drake’s mistake, and will go unresponsive at the most inconvenient times.

-...

-Fuck, I need a drink. Also, ’m going there.

-You heard Gar, Jay -pointed out Dick- we can’t just walk in there, and the Tower is legally his. We have to be smart about this, plan this through, and/

-Yeah, no, he said ‘no bats’-gesturing at his gun holsters, he started to walk to where his bike was parked-. RIP ya’ll, but I’m different. See ya.

-...

-Tt. Useless. I’ll go back to training. Father, Grayson, should you two, as the plebeians say, ‘snap out of it’ and come with a good plan to get Drake back under our tutelage, I’ll be by the mats waiting.

-...

-...Don’t look at me like that. I raised him for a few months tops, but he’s your kid, not mine. Same with Tim, and Jason’s entirely your fault.

---.---

Meanwhile, back at the Tower, Kon let out a screeching ‘Tim!’ before diving out and catching the baby bird in his arms, halting his fall from the ceiling rafters where he had been climbing. Behind him, Cassie let out a relieved breath.

-God’s above, you almost gave me a heart attack. Okay, new ground rules, this two little feet stay on the ground.

Tim, as proudly as a three year old toddler could, frowned at him.

-Don’t patwonize me, Kon. And lemme go, I havta cacth Zac/ Zat/… Magic-boy.

Bart materialized by their side, arms looping below Tim’s armpints to carry him to the recently put back to its correct place couch. He dropped there, tiny bird in his lap, cooing all the while.

-Aww, you’re precious.

-I could still huwt you -pointed out the toddler, resigning himself at being manhandled.

-I know -replied Bart lovingly, softly stroking his turf of hair.

Somewhere on the side, Cissie clapped her hands, as if getting rid of the dust there.

-Okay, I putted out the fire, so now I’ll be heading home. This magical bullshit is way out of my ‘retired’ comfort zone.

Cassie landed by her side and gave her a quick hug, while Greta walked up to them- I understand, thanks for coming.

-Give us a call when this is solved, we can have a coffee while you complain about your husbands. And… child, now, I guess. God, it was already weird calling Tim your husband, but now he’s a baby and it's doubly weird. Figure this out quickly.

-Will do. See you guys later.

One by one, they all left, some offering their support (appreciated, but not needed, thank you, we’ll manage), some still laughing. In the end, only the Core Four, Gar, Raven and Miguel remained. Zachary probably was there somewhere (if he dared leave without helping them fix this, he was dead meat), but out of the enraged toddler’s sight, which. Wise.

Even if said little human being was pint sized and cow eyed, he was probably still the most dangerous person in the room, unarmed or not (you know what, scratch that; if time with Tim taught them anything, was that no bat was ever unarmed. Even bare handed, their own bodies were weapons).

-...So... What should we do while we wait for Zatara’s solution?

-I vote movie night. It’s not like we can keep on drinking, with a kid in the room/ Auch! Pointy elbows, Tim!

Kon swooped in, picking Tim from Bart’s not invulnerable lap and cuddling to him on the couch by the speedster’s side. Tim knew better than to hit the Boy of Steel without proper equipment, so he let himself fall back against the broad chest. Cassie, talking to the older members of the team on the side, smiled softly at them before returning to her conversation.

As mad as his current situation made him, Tim couldn’t bring himself to pout too much. It had been a fun night, all things considered.

-----.-----

#Tim Drake #kon el kent #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #young justice #teen titans #core four #crack wedding #Don't know what I'm doing hahaha #don't have an excuse i'm just procastinating from studying for my finals #gonna be dead by next week so enjoy this folks #i did this instead of studying #my writing #No edit we die like women

113 notes · View notes

iphoenixrising · 6 years

Note

I can't stop thinking about your Dr!Tim verse (This isnt a prompt btw, I just wanted you to know that Ive been thinking about your writing and how much its inspired me. Sorry for how long this is). I keep imagining the man on the bridge being the hot topic on every news station and paper, even more than Batman and Robin. Everyone wants to know who he is. Is he ok? Did he give his life saving his fellow Gotham citizens? There are a lot of questions

(2)and few answers. Those in the loop are more than content to leave it that way,but somehow it gets leaked that Gothams new hero is a young prodigy doctor atGotham General. Tim is not made aware of this until he gets mobbed by reportersas he’s leaving his 36 hour shift and getting asked a lot of innapropriatepersonal questions. And it’s not nearly as funny as you seem to think it is,Jason.

(3)Of course his boyfriends quickly stop finding the situation funny once the joboffers from all over the world start rolling in. Dozens of them, all offeringthings like millions of dollars in salary, positions like chief of surgery, allin state of the art hospitals that are properly funded and don’t reside incities with crazy clown attacks. And it hurts because, how could they ask himto stay? How could they ask their genius sugar to tie himself down to a city

(4)that chews everyone in it up and spits them out, to be a doctor in a hospitalbarely scraping by, how could they ask their genius boy to refuse a once in alifetime opportunity to escape this shithole of a city and make something bigof himself, all to stay with two vigilantes who cant guarantee they’ll make ithome each night. They couldn’t do it, they want whats best for their boy, evenif it means he leaves them. They can’t ask him to stay.

(5)Damian of course has no such qualms about blackmailing, er requesting Drakestay in the city, and subsequently with his older brothers (Because if he hurtsthem, Damian will hurt Tim twice as bad). Which leads to a very awkwardconversation in which Damian threatens Tim not to leave, Tim is confusedbecause “who said anything about leaving?” And then they have a heartto heart about how Tim isn’t stuck at Gotham general, he chose that hospital.And that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

So, hi babe :D Iknow this has been sitting in my inbox for a minute, sorry >.

Brilliant, babe. Justbrilliant.

I also get to play withanother back-and-forth I haven’t really gotten to yet in these little things,so I’m super excited for B and Tony Stark to just have a little snark-fest,yeah?

Tony showed up a fewweeks early for his quarterly “visit” to Gotham.

It’s disconcertingbecause Tony Stark goes between creating new innovations to privatelyconsulting around the US on the most dire of cases in need of a precise handand large enough ego to make miracles happen. He might have to do somebookkeeping even though Pepper is his CEO and runs his company with iron heels. When he’s not working, he has a nice relationship waiting for himat home.

All of it didn’t leaveTony much time to be running to Gotham before schedule to do someridiculous amount of pouting.

And yet?

Here they are.

When Tim actually getsto turn away from the stack of charts he’s updating, he has an oh shitmoment because Tony…isn’t immediately talking. No white coat, just asnazzy three-piece, arms crossed over his chest, and utterly

Silent.

Tim automaticallystands, taking in his old mentor from head to foot, looking for clues toadd to the inevitable diagnosis hovering in his brain pan.

(Because, you know, thattime when he was still a lowly bachelor and could take a month off of Mercy topretty much live in Tony’s facility while things like brain tumors threatenedhis Tony Stark’s life. His hands didn’t shake the whole time he was rootingaround that famous mound of grey matter–that’s when he knew he’d hit the bigleagues.)

“If you even think,”Tony starts, low and angry, “of taking the offer from UCLA over mine, Iwill be an even bigger asshole about your terrible life choices.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Word has apparently gottenaround.

It started out with aquick blurb on the news, blurry camera phone picture of emergency workers andplain clothes civilians jumping to action in the middle of a crisis, a humaninterest story and all that. A glimmer of goodness among the chaos.

More picture with betterquality once the shock and aftermath died down, started to flood Social Media,even various videos of cables snapping and people running, trying not to gettrampled. One the media latched onto just happened to be of him carrying thelittle girl from the car and helping her mother up in the back of a truck tosend them to safety.

The one with himbreaking through the fallen debris made Dick gasp from the table where he waspatching his suit and Jay wrap a big hand around his ankle to squeeze.

The one where he almostlost his grip climbing the wall of broken shit and flaming car remains isprobably where someone saw the connection because the class of kids went on thenews, holding up colorful signs with Thank-You, Dr. Drake!

He was happy they allseemed fine and after an uncomfortable call from Channel 11 Gotham (howthey found out his name is still a mystery even though he suspects B is an evenbigger troll than he’d already surmised), in which he stipulated nocameras this time, went by the elementary school for a visit. They gripped hisnerd shirt with excited hands, and his arms are long enough for a lot ofhugs.

But while Channel 11agreed to his term of no cameras, no interviews, that didn’t really panout when it came to the story later on that night.

His picture flashed allover the damn place, the resident angel on the bridge as one Dr. Drakefrom Mercy General trying to save as many lives as he could. More video clipsand interviews after the fact (he’s so glad to see that Karmen and her mom areokay), and dammit, he’s being literally attacked outside thedouble doors to his ER after a very long shift without Steph. He mighthave been a little mean when he told them in no specific terms that he was onlytrying to make sure people didn’t, you know, die horribly, as is hisnormal, every-day job, and please let him go home where he can pass outfor a day or he’s going to lie down on someone’s shoes and take a nap.

Jay was predictablyentertained at the whole of it. Dick merely told him his kick-ass doctorinstincts deserved appropriate accolades.

Both of them areassholes, but still, they’re his assholes.

But eventually, likeeverything in Gotham, those videos became old news and the next wave ofinevitable oh shit became front and center. Which, should have meant hisfifteen seconds of fame was pretty much over (thankfully)–if he hadn’tstarted getting other interest.

Several offers startedcoming first by mail to the Penthouse, more by phone and email. Unassumingproper stationary with silver and gold lettering, bright voicemails about his“heroism” and obvious skill in emergency situations, emails from high-rankingdoctors or board members extending an invitation to visit their campus and seeif his career might be going in a new direction.

(Gag)

It was pretty easy atfirst, chucking those finely detailed introduction letters in the trashdiscreetly, sending back appreciative declines without Dick or Jason gettingwise as to how many there actually were.

(John Hopkinsthough…that one he had to think about)

A month later and thingsslacked off (or might be routed through Drake Industries so they stop coming tothe Penthouse). Apparently, though, the attention had been somewhat noticeable.

“I don’t know what youmay have heard, Tony, but–” he starts out calmly, putting the penpointedly down.

“Let me start with the shortlist,” it’s the usual sarcasm laying the mood, mimicking an imaginarychecklist, “John Hopkins, Department Head of Emergency Medicine. Mayo, General Surgery Residency Program Director. MassachusettsGeneral, Chief of Surgery. UCSF, Chief of Residents. UCLA, Chief of Staff.Cedars-Sinai, Neuroscience research grants out the ass. Sound morefamiliar?”

Well, there’s only oneway to get this conversation started.

Bonding over coffee.

Gathering up hischarts with a sigh, Tim shakes his head a little and grabs the cane he’s beenusing since his leg is finally starting to get with it (and no Steph,the House MD jokes were funny a week ago, now you need new material). Heshoos Tony out of the room and down the corridor to the chaos that is his ER.

“Notice I didn’tmention the very generous and consistent offer from StarkMedical, Tim,” because Tony really has nothing to be mad about per sayand falls in step beside him anyway, slowing down his unusually fast strides toaccount for the limp. “Because I’m not here to smooze.”

He pauses at the maindesk to arrange the charts in order, gets the approving nod from his favoriteHead Nurse.

“There’s story behindthis,” he fills in casually, “it’s more complicated than just–”

“You almost died,”Tony interrupts smoothly, “on a bridge. You ran around on a crumbling bridgeinstead of getting people the hell off while you got the hell off. Halfthe nation saw that guy with the crazy bat fetish catch someone out in openwater wearing purple scrubs, Tim.”

Well, none of that isa lie really.

Hands free, Tim gripsTony’s elbow and steers them pointedly into the break room, closes the door.With Dr. Stark roaming around Mercy, most everyone would stay clear unless somecatastrophe hits anyway.

He lets Tony stew fora few minutes while he makes a fresh pot of coffee and thinks very, very hardabout how this is going to go.

“You were worriedabout me,” Tim finally gives a half-grin in the face of Tony’s nope, andputs a fresh paper cup in his hand, “you can bluster all you want, but you wereworried, and I appreciate it.”

“That is absolute crapand you know it. I’m here to make sure no other hospitals or researchfacilities snatch you up, Drake. Not after all the effort I put into you overthe last few years.”

Sure, Tony. “The bridge. I survived. A lot of otherpeople survived, so you can ignore whatever crap the news stations aresaying–”

“All of it is true.You stupidly risked your life when the structural integrity was compromised,and since it just happened to involve that wing-nut in the cape, thenation is going to pay the fuck attention.”

Which is probably whyhe’s suddenly Mr. Popular in his field. Well, that does answer some questions.

“You’re taking thisout of proportion,” even if it’s fruitless, he’s still going to try,“there really haven’t been that many–”

“Twenty of the topfacilities in the world have made offers that would put this place to shame.Three of your last publications have shown up in recent journals. The nextsymposium you’re supposed to be at is already sold out.”

And well, shit.He…he didn’t know all of that.

“Besides, if I wasblowing it out of proportion, we wouldn’t be talking about it in thedeserted break room, Drake.”

Tim groans out loud,rubbing a tired hand down his face. How is he going to explain without soundinglike a complete moron?

“Tony, the offersare…nice, okay? I’m not going to say it isn’t cool to be wanted by someof these places. I mean Cedars… they have equipment and research facilitiesmost places couldn’t even dream of. Just the possibilities–”

A very pointedclearing of the throat makes him take a pause to breathe, count to ten becausehe has to get in the mindset to deal with Tony like this again (it’s been aminute) when he’s being incredibly stubborn.

Neither of them noticethe dark blue against black right at the side of the building, but the presenceunder the open window narrows white eyes and stays hidden in the Gotham shadow. Who even knew how long he’d been there.

“Excuse me,Cedars has equipment most facilities–aside from Stark Medical of course–couldn’teven dream of.”

The look he gets backis unimpressed at most, but Tim can see past the usual Tony Stark mask. Theexuding confidence is there like the nice, expensive suits he wears, but underneaththe brilliance and the snark, Tony’s eyes are bloodshot and the dark circlesunderneath look like bruises. He keeps his dominant hand in the pocket of hispants, probably to hide the slight tremble (which is why he isn’t wearing acoat, right? If Tony’s riding the sleep dep train, he won’t operate if hishands are starting to shake).

Tim eases back alittle, sips on his terrible sludge while idly thumbing his phone open.

“I’m very well awareof the opportunities right in front of you, Tim,” Tony starts moving, a shortwhirlwind of movement, activity, and energy. “I’m just saying–”

“What I told you ayear ago is still true,” Tim comes back, finishing up the quick text to one ofTony’s significant others, (just a little knowledge drop on how exhausted hismentor really is). He puts his phone away and crosses his arms over his chestin a firm sign of ‘this is how the discussion is going to go.’

“You can’t be serious.”And yes, that’s Tony Stark without all the touchy-feely, I care if you diekind of thing. “I’m outraged. I’m outraged on your behalf, Tim.”

“You can’t be,” hedeadpans.

“The hell I can’t.You’re going to stay here, in this death trap of a city and practicemedicine in this ill-equipped, dilapidated chop-shop hold-over from the secondWorld War–”

“Tony, c’mon.”

“While half thegoddamned world is out for you?! Do you have any idea what kindof direction your career could go if you accepted even one of thoseoffers?”

“I–”

“Anything else isliterally going to be professional suicide.”

“When you put it like that–”he snarks back, getting a little closer to his patience. It had taken longerthan usual because Tony, like Layla, needed to adults to lay it out for themonce and awhile.

“It’s time to listento reason, Tim. You’ve had plenty of time to try, I don’t know, winningthe Nobel for putting up with terrible conditions and homicidal maniacs withbomb fetishes. Isn’t it time you started challenging yourself again, and notby trying to die in this trash-dump city?”

And the shadowsoundlessly slides away in the night, leaving the conversation to finish up anecessary patrol. The rushing wind doesn’t take away anything he’s alreadylearned.

Dr. Drake, blissfullyunaware of the company, narrows his eyes dangerously, straightens up because dammit,he thought he handled this.

“I. Am. Not.Interested.” He tries, wondering if the emphasis counts. “As appealing as theresearch capabilities are, I’m not taking any of the offers. At all, atall. I’m staying right the fuck here where I choose to be.”

And he sees Tony startto open his mouth to start-up with another fast and furious argument on whyGotham is a cesspool of death and more death, but Tim walks right overanything he might have started in on by just getting right up in Tony’s faceand laying it all out.

“I appreciate the fuckout of the interest, Dr. Stark. Thanks but no thanks.”

“I need someone tocheck you out obviously.”

“I like ithere.”

“Oh? And what’s hername Mister I-Like-It-Here?”

“His name,Tony, and their names for your information.”

That has the intendedeffect and makes his old mentor pretty much pause on the next syllable.

“But just so you know,they aren’t the only reasons why I’m staying in Gotham City. It’s more thanbeing close to my parents’ graves or close to my best friend and my niece. It’smore than just finally coming home, Tony. I belong here. I’m neededhere. It’s dirty and dangerous and so fucking what if there’s a guy in aBat suit running around kicking the shit out of criminals? It’s my city,so no. I’m not going anywhere.”

And Tony just blinksdown at him for long moments, this scene so painfully familiar from their daysof arguing back and forth during his “internship” with Stark Medical. It hadn’ttaken him long to understand what needed to be done to make someone like TonyStark change his mind.

Get all up in his faceand drop some truth bombs.

“I really, really hatethis,” Tony finally replies flatly, but his eyes are scrunched in amusement.

“I know. If I ever dowant to leave it behind, then you know the first place I’m going to go,” Timcomes back more gently, giving Tony a smirk.

Even though he’sobvious not happy about it, some of the pissed off fades out of Tony’sstiff posture. “Promise me, Drake. No one gets to kill you before I pick yourbrain about the neuro-stimulation device we’re working on.”

And with the obviouspun, he leans over laughing until his damn leg starts to ache and Tony has tohold him up by the arm so he doesn’t fall over.

The very impressiveRolls Royce greets Dr. Stark when he finally makes his way out the front doorsto attempt finding some palatable coffee.

The older man waitingby the passenger-side door is familiar enough that a smile cuts across Tony’sface.

“Alfred! Long time, nosee.” He smirks at the irony since his “visits” to Gotham didn’t alwayscoordinate with Pepper’s insistence he at least be in the city for SMbusiness.

“Master Stark, apleasure to see you again, Sir.”

“Always. Let me guess.You have some incredible coffee in there waiting for me?”

“Of course, Sir. Flavoredjust how you prefer.”

“You are a master ofall things, Alfred. Don’t even let Bruce tell you any differently.”

“I shall remind him atevery opportunity. However, you may do me a service and tell him yourself,”Alfred opened the back door with a slight flourish to show the billionairehimself sitting in the back, drinking from a thick, glass tumbler.

“Aw, Bruce, is that autility belt under your shirt or are you just happy to see me?”

The surgeon foldshimself down to get in, eyes sparkling for the slight scowl on his old friend’sface. He pays little attention to Alfred getting back in the driver’s seat andstarting the car. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t trust me inyour city.”

Tony stick up hispointer fingers at the side of his head, wiggling them to mimic the ears on theside of the cowl.

He’s smiling likecrazy when B just rolls his eyes and takes a deep pull from the tumbler.“You’re early, even after you’ve been running the gambit at your facility andStark Industries for the past few weeks. Forgive me for being curious.”

“I had to see anotherdoctor about a job prospect.”

“The doctor we have amutual interest in?”

“That would be theone. Next time he needs to be saved, leave the tights at home. Don’t you have aWE helicopter for a reason?”

“And exactly how wouldI explain that one away?”

“You have PR people,Bruce, let them have a field day with ‘rich socialite accidentally savespeople on a crumbling bridge.’”

“That would make morework for me as Bruce Wayne. Batman is a better figurehead for that kind ofthing.”

“Figurehead? Oh,you mean the persona you’ve gone to great lengths to hide as some kindof myth or urban legend all these years? That guy just suddenly shows up in thedaytime?”

“He’s beenphotographed before, Tony. Sometimes even with other superheroes, likeSuperman and Wonder Woman. All drawback of being on a team.”

“Teams are wonderfulthings, Bruce.

“Says you.”

And from a pocket inthe door, Bruce finally has a little bit of mercy on the overworked genius bypulling out a warm travel mug with the Batman logo on the front.

Tony laughs maniacallyfor long, painful moments, earning another eye-roll. The contents, however, arejust as Alfred promised: full of caffeine and just as tasty.

After a long moment ofsatisfaction, Tony lays his head back on the cushy seat and just sighs.

“You’re pushingyourself too hard,” Bruce admonishes gently. “I’m going to send the WE chopperto pick up Jim and Steve instead.”

That wakes him up.

“Don’t you even dare,B. I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’ve made worseenemies.”

Tony doesn’t snortcoffee up his nose, but really, it’s a close thing.

“You obviously can’ttake care of yourself,” Bruce is his usual brusk, no-nonsense about it, butTony can see there’s already some kind of plan in the making. “I can seewhy the two of them have such a hard time with you.”

“Says the guy thatneeded an emergency arthroscopy for meniscus tears.”

“Then I guess I’m verylucky you were in town.”

Tony hums, but hiseyes are sparkling. “How is the knee doing by the way?”

“It hurts when I breaksomeone’s jaw. Other than that, it’s fine.” And because it’s Bruce, he wavesit away without a second thought.

Tony hums again, buthis eyes go down to the knee in question.

Bruce sips his drinkagain while Alfred continues driving and Tony makes him wait for it.

Finally, once they’repassing the old Mylar building, B looks at him head-on, “all right. What did hehave to say?”

Trying not to grin,Tony shrugs a shoulder, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. Drake is staying inGotham, even with the more-than-generous offer I’ve made him. Believe me, B,I’m not happy about it, but he doesn’t seem too keen on leaving Mercy General.”

And as Tony is well-awarein their long and industrious friendship, the real Bruce Wayne is like a closedbook, doesn’t let even the smallest twitch break his facade (well, except infront of his boys, which is when BatDad makes an appearance), but thesigns of relief are really hard to miss for someone that literally kept B’sright arm moving after that rotator cuff injury.

“Dick and Jay will behappy to hear that, I suppose.” Tony observes with false cheer becausehonestly, who wouldn’t put two and two together at this juncture.

(Bruce isn’t the onlydetective. As a surgeon, Tony has to deduce with little evidence, so it’s notreally a shocker to find out the vigilantes have a doctor for a sweetie. Smartmove all around.)

“…yes, they will.Tim…?”

“He didn’t have to.You just told me yourself, Mr. Wayne.”

At the frown, Tonygives himself a mental point. The day he can get one up on the Batman is reallya day he needs to remember.

“All right, fine. Jayand Dick might have mentioned he’s been getting attention outside Gotham. I’vealready taken some steps to try making it seem like staying in the city mightbe a better deal.”

And Tony’s jaw drops,“you’ve been trying to get Mercy to partner with WE! That’s why they aren’tplaying nice with Pepper! Bruce, you devil.”

“Demon, actually, ifyou believe the stories,” and now it’s Bruce smirking into his tumbler. “We’lltalk more about it over dinner. Besides, the Batcomputer is on the fritz again.You can dazzle me over filet mignon.”

“Flatterer. How can Ipossibly say no?”

Bruce taps theintercom to tell Alfred they’re ready to go back to the Manor and Dr. Starkwill be joining them for the evening. Alfred gives him an affirmative and the planis set into motion. If there just happens to be a comfortable surfacefor Tony to pass out on during the visit, well, the pictures for Jim and Stevewould be well-worth the effort.

The conversation withTony didn’t end well, leaving him with a mental hangover by the time his shiftis finally over.

Night hadn’t startedbreaking away into dawn yet, so he’s still walking by dark alleys where thestreet lights are flickering.

He gets out a, “whatthe fuck–!?” before he’s just suddenly swept up off his feet by a strongarm holding him up hundreds of feet in the air.

Really, he should beused to things like this by now.

Robin undoubtedly givesno shits about how tight he’s holding onto the doctor or, the obviousdifferences in their height as punctuated by the botched landing, putting himliterally on his ass.

“Wow, thanks for the warning,Rob. I really didn’t need legs anyway.”

In some way that mightactually show he’s sorry, Robin bends down to pick up the cane and handsit over so Tim can get back on his feet.

“Alright, what’s goingon? Where are you hurt?” He doesn’t bother with niceties, just grips Robin bythe bicep and turns him, uses the cane to hold the cape out of the way. “Pleasetell me no one stabbed you because wouldn’t that just be ironic?”

He sees no blood ortorn suit. Takes a second look just to make sure.

Robin, in a creepyparody of his conversation with Tony earlier in the evening, is silent.

“Rob? Robin, what isit?”

A litany of oh shitruns through his brain pain in the form of toxins, mind control, and bloodborne pathogens (oh my).

“I have beeninformed,” the youngest vigilante starts slowly, “you are considering other opportunitiesoutside of Gotham, Drake.”

He blinks once. Doesit again while staring down at the whiteouts.

“Opportunities? Rob–Dami,what are you talking about?”

“Facilities are vyingfor you, offering you more advantages than any in Gotham possibly could.I understand the temptation of such offers–”

“Whoa, what? Wait aminute. Just. Wait.”

“However,” Robin goeson, his tone low in the night, “I am here to offer you a bargain.”

And that in no waywhatsoever sound anything less than ominous. Like, ‘I’ll promise not to takeout your spleen’ kind ominous.

He leans down a littleso the crime fighter doesn’t have to look up at him, “First: yes, I’ve gottensome job offers. It’s nice they’re thinking of me, really, but those offers arebased off a one-time emergency incident, not because they’ve seen me inaction or know anything about my…hobbies. They’re not offering a jobto me, Dami. Do you get that?”

The ensuing silenceand Bat-stillness are signs of the younger processing.

“Besides, I choseto come back to Gotham when I could have gone pretty much anywhere after myinternship with Stark Medical. You have no idea how many places wantedme on staff after I survived Tony Stark. If I wanted a job outside of the city,I could have had it in spades. The point is I chose to be here. I wantedto stay, and that? Isn’t going to change, okay? No bargains, no threats,nothing. I’m not leaving–”

He stops himselfbefore saying I’m not leaving Dick and Jay because really, he isnot, repeat Not talking to Dami about his relationship. Poor kid mightbe traumatized for life, so nope, not happening.

(Their last littleconvo to the vibe of ‘harm my brother and I shall eviscerate you per one ofyour textbooks. I shall do it slowly and methodically. Your screams would nottrouble me’ turned into a pretty good discussion on the best possiblescenario in effectively ripping someone’s spine out. His argument against thelogistics of it had spurned Robin out of the killing mood).

The obvious relief inthe small crime fighter is right there in how his shoulders sag just slightly.

“So, you’re going tohave to put up with me saving your ass when you do stupid shit like take on anarmy of zombified Jokers without backup.”

“Then…I shall haveno other option but to deal with your meddling when necessary,” the youngerwaves off his concern, but a corner of his mouth is tilted up just enough tonotice.

It’s really nice ofDami to drop him off on his fire escape. Walking would have been fine, but whenyou can travel Air-Robin, well, why not?

He pushes his windowup and gingerly eases in, maneuvering the cane to steady his leg. Hands are onhim before his head is inside and he wacks himself a good one in surprise.

Dick is smiling gentlydown at him, still gripping his elbow to steady him.

“That sounded like ithurt,” is a failed attempt at a joke because the mirth doesn’t reach the darkblue of Dick’s eyes.

Oh. OH. Welp, that’swhere Dami got this nonsense from, is it?

His stern lecture isgoing to have to wait for at least one cup of half-way decent coffee because hereally need to wind it up so the message hits home.

Jay is already there,his chair pulled out from the kitchen table and the pot filled with somethingdarker than the night.

“Hi honey,” he tiredlycalls, “did my boys have a good time kicking the shit out of bad guys tonight?”

Making grabby hand athim, Dick is one of his hugging moods, and pretty much lifts him off hisfeet to nuzzle/carry him to the table where blessed coffee awaited. Fine.Lecture pending.

He gets a last goodnuzzle to the face before the smell of pizza hits and a plate appears in frontof him. Jason leans down to blow a breath across his jugular before his mouthpresses just enough to be a kiss, the usual effect takes his nerve endings up anotch or two before the tease pulls away.

The three of them eatin sluggish silence, the strain of their night jobs hitting a little close tohome. The call of a communal shower and their large, comfortable bed a siren’ssong to the over-worked, sleep-deprived do-gooders.

But Tim knows them bynow, knows what’s already running them further down.

Through the last yearof their relationship, they’d already been through the whole we’re puttingyou in danger just by being with you argument.

Yes, yes it possiblywas.

Yes, he is fullyaware.

Yes, he can make hisown choices fuck you very much. Apparently, his no, not changing mymind is going to come out for a second time tonight.

“Robin picked me up onthe way home,” he starts out while the two of them are finishing up and lookingless likely to start up arguing before he’s made his point.

“Dami was still out?”

“What? Baby Bat ain’tget enough in that warehouse down on 23rd?”

Tim finishes off hiscoffee and finally sets his eyes on first Jason and then Dick. “Going to ask mewhat he wanted?”

Both crime fighters gostill, doing that eye slide thing they can still pull off with a domino andhelmet.

“Lay it on us,Timmers.”

“He pretty much askedwhat offer I was accepting for some mystery job half a continent away,”and now he’s glaring, eyes narrowing when Dick looks quickly away and Jasonsits back with a tense jaw jutting out.

“Which is absolutelyfucking ridiculous considering I like right where the hell I am.Where could he have heard such a thing, I wonder?”

Oh yeah, that’s Dick’sguilty expression.

“It’s fine if theywant to offer me a position, but the nice thing about it is that I can politelydecline, you know.”

“Top twenty facilitiesin the world, Timmy?” Dick’s voice is softer than he’d like, shakingly unsurefor a vigilante that literally risks his life every night to keep peoplehe doesn’t even know safe. “That’s not something to take…lightly.”

His mouth drops openwith an are you even kidding me?

“‘Sides,” Jayintejects without really looking at him, “ain’t like this is the fucking centero’ the world fer a fella like you, Sweets. Smart, sassy, moves like yerass is on fucking fire when someone’s on the line. Ya got moreguts than anyone outta the cape I ever met.”

“Gotham doesn’t haveto be the hill you die on,” Dick picks up, looking down into the sludge left atthe bottom of his coffee mug, “we would absolutely understand andsupport you if you even wanted to look into any of these places–”

“Even go ta seewhatcha might be lookin’ at,” Jay shrugs indifferently, “make sure ya’d findsomewhere safe ta build a nest.”

“The kind oftechnology they could offer you would be, like, ground-breaking stuff and…andGotham just can’t give you that, Tim.”

“No motherfuckersgonna break inta yer shit, I guaran-fucking-tee ya on that.”

“It’s not just beingin the ER or in surgery, it’s moving up to management or teaching or being afull-time researcher with grants and–and everything.”

“Make a safe routethere n’ back, you feel me? Me n’ Dickie’ll scope it out a few days, check the scene.”

“We would never wantto hold you back, baby. Not when the only thing Gotham has to offer you isexploding bridges and insane mad men that kidnap you and ninjas that are readyto attack at any second, and…and Timmy, you could never be safe, notreally, not here. Not even with us and B and Dami and everyone else,it’ll never be completely safe for you.”

“But fucking believeit, Timmers, we’ll make any place ya wanna lay yer head down as safe as wecan, yeah?”

“We…we love you, andwe want the best for you.”

“If leavin’ is what’sbest, Sweets, then we’ll make it fucking happen.”

It’s DIck’s voicecracking and Jay’s shiny, averted eyes that end it for him right then andthere.

He shoves himself upfrom the table abruptly, a jarring motion. The sound of the chair fallingbackwards a loud clatter against the softness of their voices. He keeps a handon the table top to walk around the damn thing and almost strangle Jason bylooping an arm around the base of his throat and pull the Red Hood into hischest. He holds out his other hand to Dick, glaring with the best of hisabilities.

It’s a tremulous thingwhen Dick rises tiredly out of his seat and takes that hand, lets Tim pull himover and secure the both of them to him.

“I’m going to say thisbecause it’s obvious the two of you are too tired to use your detective skillsfor anything more than superficial clues.”

Slowly, Jay’s face isin his stomach, arms wrapping around his waist while Dick secures his chest,the two of them almost holding him up.

“After all thefighting I’ve had to do to get here, to get this far, I’m not giving up jackshit. I run the gauntlet because that exactly where I want to be. I staywith my people because that’s my fucking team and no, I don’t wantor need another. I can watch Layla grow up into this kick ass little person andmake sure Steph has someone to Netflix and chill with while we kill a pint ofBen & Jerry’s. But what matters the most, what I can’t fucking give upis being here with the two of you in whatever capacity I can. Asyour boyfriend, as your surgeon, as the guy that is totally, you know, inlove with you. As someone that can share your lives like this. All of it isexactly what I want and what I get to choose. You two? Don’t get to tellme what’s best for me. I decide that. Got it?”

The quiet, still menattached to him give half-shuffling nods where they’re buried in him.

“I don’t want to hearanything else about leaving Gotham, like at all, okay? The answer is no.I’m not going anywhere to tour the facilities or listen to stupid speechesabout what they have to offer or how good the benefits package is. None of thatshit. They can’t offer me my ER, they can’t offer me time doing research in theBatCave, they can’t let me play around with alien DNA for a minute, and theycan’t give me you two. So? No. Case closed.”

Dick lets up justenough for him to tilt Jay’s head back and lean down to slide their lipstogether, giving the Red Hood a little something to seal the deal. Those eyesare bluer when he pulls back, making him smirk before he straightens up to giveDick the same treatment.

(Because they’re bothtall, he has to pull them down to effectively fuck his tongue in their mouths.Such a pain in the ass.)

When he pulls back,Dick gasps in a little, tightens his hold around Tim’s chest.

But the reliefpervades the air between them, giving him a reason to go a little more lax,just to feel them pretty much ready to hold him up completely.

“So the plan is,”he continues easily, one hand on the back of Jay’s neck to rub the tensionaway, and the other gripping Dick’s wrist tight enough to bruise tomorrow, “weget a nice, hot shower with plenty of scrubbing and maybe a little play time.Then, we climb in bed and pass the fuck out. You can fix your suits tomorrow,and we’ll all feel up to having dangerous acrobatic vigilante sex after about eight hours. If you’re both good,I’ll…I’ll wear that thing you got me for my birthday. Deal?”

He knows he’s alreadygot their acquiescence when both his boyfriends noticeably perk.

“That sounds like adeal to me,” Dick tries to be mock-grave, but he’s laughing in the back ofTim’s neck, running his nose over the knob of bone.

“Fucking righteous,Sweetheart. I been waiting ta see that.” Jay is grinning up at him with thatlook– all kinds of anticipation without any of the previous hesitation.

“Good. Peel yourselvesoff of me and lets get naked. For mostly clean purposes. Or not. Really, I’mpretty beyond compromised, so I’d probably like to make you both come at leastonce before I’m unconscious.”

“Sweet-talker,” Dickteases and steps to the side so he can be the first to lift their civilianboyfriend up in a princess hold that has become way too reminiscent in the pasttwo months.

“He’s just talkin’ my language, ‘at’s all, Baby Boy,” Jaystands to give him a fast n’ dirty before he gets their mugs to the sink andfills them with water to wash tomorrow. He hits the lights and follows his boysdown the hallway where slippery skin and things like I’m not giving upare waiting.

#doctor!tim #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #winter answers #my fic #my writing #this really was fun babe #bruce wayne #with guest star #tony stark #dr!tim

97 notes · View notes